The Good Soldier
by Syl
Summary: What if Miss Martian didn't restore Robin's memory in Bialya?
1. Chapter 1

9

**Summary**: What if Miss Martian didn't restore Robin's memory in Bialya?

**Author's Note**: An alternate story based on "Bereft," _Young Justice_ S1E9; _Batman: Son of the Demon_; and "The Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul." This story is AU, so besides the obvious differences from "Bereft," _B:SotD_, and _TRoRaG_, there will be other canon changes.

**Acknowledgements: **Chinese mythology from _Selected Chinese Myths and Fantasies_ . . Apologies in advance for the liberties I took with the myths. Also, Wikipedia is my go-to site for DCU character and place backgrounds.

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[13 Years Ago…]**

_The dark haired, young man stands nervously, his arm around his beautiful raven-haired wife. The comfortably furnished waiting room boasts a fireplace with a cheery fire and a large picture window that overlooks open, well-maintained grounds. From a distant playing field, the crack of a bat can be heard, followed by the sound of cheers. Closer in, younger children play ring-around-the-rosie, supervised by two nuns. _

_The young woman smiles at her husband as the sound of children's laughter uplifts their spirits, bringing hope._

_The young couple waits anxiously, staring at the closed mahogany door before them, willing it to open. The Mother Superior, director of the St. Mary's Orphans Asylum, walked through there almost a half hour ago, after requesting they stay seated until her return._

_At last, a matronly woman in a white nun's habit emerges, a wide smile brightening her plain face. In her arms she carries a small, blue-blanketed bundle._

"_Well, here we are," she says, uncovering the baby's sweet face. "Isn't he beautiful? We found him on our doorstep two nights ago."_

"_He's perfect," the younger woman exclaims, her eyes alight with excitement. Eagerly, she holds her arms out and carefully takes the baby. She is instantly in love. "How could anyone give away such a beautiful baby?"_

_Her husband bends down and runs his finger tenderly along the baby's soft cheek. "I don't know, honey, but it's a real blessing for us."_

_The baby's tiny hand latches onto his much larger, calloused finger. Husband and wife share a look of pure joy. They are both obviously smitten with their new son._

_The new mother speaks fervently. "We will love you with all our hearts…and we promise that you will grow up to be the happiest baby in the world."_

"_You will be part of a great legacy," the baby's new father continues softly. "A proud legacy that traces its roots back for several generations in a direct line from father to son."_

"_You'll have the world's largest extended family," the young mother adds with a slight laugh. _

"_And the coolest!" Husband and wife share a knowing look, gray eyes smiling at blue ones, which are the same shade as an April sky. "With lots of aunts and uncles who'll love you as much we do."_

_Seeing an object peeking out from the blanket's folds, the young woman digs out a small, oblong box. "What's this?" she asks curiously, opening it. She gasps, her delicate mouth forming an _O_ in surprise. She and her husband both stare at the exquisite single strand of pearls lying on a bed of dark blue velvet._

_Smiling sadly, the Mother Superior shrugs. "It was tucked inside the baby's blanket when we found him. It was probably left behind as a memento..." She makes the Sign of the Cross, blessing the new family…_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Present Day]**

When Robin woke up, he couldn't remember what happened. Holding his hand up to his head, he groaned.

"Did'ja get the license plate of that truck, B.?" Squinting, he looked around. He was surrounded by desert as far as the eye could see. "Holy Wizard of Oz, Batman," he muttered sarcastically. "I'm definitely not in Gotham anymore."

The question was how did he end up here? A sudden vision of Bruce promising that tomorrow was _"The Day"_ flashed in his mind's eye. Was that today? Did he somehow miss it? No, wait! That didn't make sense. Tomorrow was a school day. And last he remembered, Bruce's only response to his constant wheedling about being allowed in the Justice League's HQ had been answered with a curt "No."

Sitting up, he ran a mental assessment of his physical condition. Other than a blinding headache, which was receding even now, and a few of the usual aches and pains that came from hand-to-hand combat, he seemed to be all right.

But…where was Batman? Was he in trouble? Robin squinted in the glaring sun. He had to find some shade. Spotting a protected rock overhang, he stumbled toward it. Reaching the relative coolness out of the direct sunlight, he leaned against the hard surface and slid down to a sitting position. Activating his wrist computer, he ran a locator check on Batman and was surprised to find his beacon in Gotham—Wayne Towers to be exact.

"Huh." He looked bemused momentarily. Shrugging, he was about to contact his mentor when he had another brief vision of Batman: _"Remember, this is a covert mission. Radio silence is in effect."_

"Or not," he muttered. Sighing, he was about to start walking, when he heard the sounds of heavy machinery off to the distance, but growing steadily louder. _Someone's approaching_, he realized. Climbing the rock formation for a better vantage point, he searched the distant horizon until he spotted the telltale dust cloud that announced visitors.

Adjusting his mask optics, he zoomed in and focused on the lead vehicle. "Bialyan soldiers! What are they doing here?" he asked. "Wherever _here_ is—!" Running a self-locator on his wrist computer, his eyes widened further. "Okay…what am _**I**_ doing in Bialya?"

Batman had said something about a covert mission in which he had to maintain radio silence. But why? Why would Batman send him alone into the Bialyan desert? It didn't make any sense.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to speculate further because by the sounds of the shells suddenly exploding all around him, he'd been spotted.

Seeking higher ground, he shot his grappler to the highest outcropping he could spot and flew up. Just as he was about to release, he felt a giant hand slam him from behind. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the ground rushing up to meet him.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The buzzing in the background seeped slowly into his consciousness. Eventually, it began to take on a recognizable form—words, but not English. The cadence was too fast, too guttural. He concentrated a moment longer.

They were speaking a common Bialyan dialect. Thankfully, one he knew. Lying still, he listened to their conversation as he covertly moved his arms and legs.

"~The Master wants him alive…do not forget.~" It was a woman's voice. Someone used to being obeyed.

_Hmm…Nice to know someone likes me. _His hands and feet were free. _Okay_…_their mistake_.

"~Yes, Mistress. And what of the Superman clone?~" A man, probably a servant, his tone obsequious.

_Wait. What Superman clone?_

"~Dispose of it. It is no longer of use to us.~" Cold, calculating.

_Somebody cloned Superman? This is so not 'asterous._

"~And the artifact?~"

"~Prepare it for transport.~"

"~What of the boy?~"

"~The same…make certain that he remains unconscious. It is a long trip.~"

_Oh, you did __**not**__ just say that!_

Robin heard light, high-heeled footsteps recede and the sound of a door closing. He felt rather than saw a presence loom over him. When a large, calloused hand closed around his forearm, the Boy Wonder made his move.

He grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind him. Before the man could cry out, he brought his feet up and kicked him in the face, quickly applying pressure to a nerve point near the carotid. Within fifteen seconds, the teen hero had quickly and efficiently disposed of his opponent.

_Sloppy_, he thought critically. Batman would have his hide if he knew how long it took him to eliminate an untrained enemy.

Inexplicably, he heard Kid Flash's snarky voice in his head. _"Seriously, dude…that's what you're afraid of?"_

Robin winced at the sudden knife-like pain in his head. "Ow…! What the—?" The sharp pain receded almost as soon as it appeared. He sighed and paused a moment to get his bearings.

Looking around the room he'd woken up in, he saw that he was in a small infirmary. It was a somewhat cheerless room with no windows and little furniture except for a hospital bed, some medical monitoring equipment, and a bedside table. Unfortunately, it also had only one door.

Activating his wrist computer, he called up his virtual keyboard and ran a quick scan of the building to find his own location.

_Ground floor…good_. Robin felt relieved and inordinately pleased. Grownups—especially the evil, super-villain kind—tended to underestimate him.

Next, his fingers moved rapidly as he searched for any electronic surveillance devices. A holographic schematic popped up, detailing cameras and motion sensors. Opening the door, he took a quick look to see if it was all clear, ran a few feet down the corridor and made his way to a small room only slighter bigger than Alfred's pantry.

Locking himself in, he quickly made his way to a section of wall with a floor-to-ceiling control panel. It had several color-coded cables snaked into it, originating from different points along the ceiling and floor. Various green, red, and yellow indicator lights blinked in random patterns. It was the maintenance control panel for the building's electronic devices.

Plugging in, Robin's fingers flew quickly across his virtual keyboard. He typed in a query to find the location of the Superman clone and whatever artifact they had mentioned.

Two red dots flashed in the lower quadrant of his virtual monitor. He touched first one then the other dot with his forefinger, and the screen immediately zoomed in. Typing a quick command, he watched the flat-screen schematic become a 3-D image of the building he was being held in. The two flashing dots—the Superman clone and the mysterious artifact—were ten levels down in a (secret, nuclear-hardened) laboratory.

_Definitely not 'asterous_, he thought.

His young face grim, he pressed _enter_ three times on his keyboard, and with each keystroke a laughing Robin icon appeared. He waited impatiently as a malignant virus uploaded into the building's comm/sec network. Finally, his screen flashed: _UPLOAD COMPLETE!_

A red outline suddenly appeared onscreen, instantaneously fanning out from the control panel to the rest of the building. It showed a total communications-electronics security blackout.

_And let that be a lesson to you! __**Bad**__-guys shouldn't mess with the __**Bat**__-guys!_

With a satisfied nod, he cautiously walked out of the electronics maintenance closet and made his way to the nearest stairwell. He had to find this Superman clone because now that he thought about it that was probably the mission: Uncover whatever was going on here and report it back.

For the moment he ignored a little voice that asserted Batman wouldn't send him halfway around the world without backup. It was quite an insistent voice telling him—no, _**nagging**_ him—to call the big guy for help. If he was suffering from memory loss, then the mission should be scrubbed.

_Immediately_.

But no…this was his mission. Whatever the circumstances, his one clear memory was that of Batman instructing him to maintain radio silence. Slipping silently down the stairwell, he made up his mind.

His mission, his responsibility.

No matter what.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Unknown to Robin, while he was descending the stairwell, his teammates who were also suffering from amnesia reunited in the Bialyan desert. When they allowed Miss Martian, a powerful psychic, to use her abilities to restore their memories, they realized that they were missing two members of their team.

Miss Martian immediately scanned the area for Superboy and Robin's psychic "fingerprints." She felt Robin's confusion overlaid with a grim determination. Probing the area further, she felt a painful backlash that brought her to knees—a blackness, swirling with impotent rage and pain.

Clamping her hands to her head, she screamed, "_**Conner**_!" Unable to withstand the torturous pain, Miss Martian passed out.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The sounds of doors slamming open above him, accompanied by yelling and steel-reinforced boots on metal stairs warned Robin that his escape had been discovered. He still had two more levels to descend, so he did what any self-respecting acrobat would do—he jumped. At the last possible moment, he reached out and caught a part of the railing to slow his descent. Releasing almost instantaneously, he flipped and landed easily on his feet.

Acquiring two of his specially modified birdarangs—the new addition to his arsenal was a gift from Batman for his thirteenth birthday—he readied them as he pushed open the door leading to the laboratory on Level 10.

As he went in, he subconsciously assessed the situation. A boy with an _**S**_-symbol on his chest was strapped down with some seriously high-tech, metal clamps to an upright table. A man in a lab coat was having way too much fun pressing a button on a control panel that sent electrical impulses to the clamps holding the boy prisoner. With each press of the button, the boy arched his back and screamed in agony.

Armed soldiers stood guard on an elevated catwalk that ran about twelve feet above on three sides. As soon as Robin came tumbling into the room, they opened fire, blanketing the areas that he had just vacated with deadly fire. He executed several back flips and forward somersaults, twisting in midair in a series of complicated, yet graceful movements, avoiding the barrage from above.

Angry beyond all measure at what was being done to the Super-boy, Robin threw the two birdarangs he already had in his hands. One hit lab-coat guy on the wrist just as he was about to press the button again. Robin grinned in grim satisfaction as the evil lab-coat guy cried out in pain.

"Nothing like a little payback to keep evildoers humble," Robin muttered.

The second birdarang hit the control panel. A blinking light was the only warning lab-coat guy got. His eyes widening, the scientist dove for cover just as the panel exploded.

Meanwhile, Robin was still busy dodging the continuous spray of bullets from above. Whipping out a couple explosive birdarangs and throwing them up at the metal catwalk faster than he'd ever done it in his years as Batman's partner, Robin leaped high and easily executed a triple somersault, landing next to Superboy.

With birdarangs exploding on the catwalk's support beams, the whole thing began to groan as it collapsed under its own weight. Soldiers, metal grating, and parts of the ceiling came down in a resounding crash.

Robin, of course, had been busy freeing Superboy during this time. He couldn't risk explosives because from what he'd seen, Superboy wasn't 100 percent invulnerable; therefore, he had to do it the old-fashioned way. He used one of the many skeleton keys he carried hidden on different parts of his uniform.

As soon as he finished freeing the boy, Robin started tossing smoke pellets all around.

"Come on…! We've gotta get outta here—now!"

"Don't _**tell**_ me what to do!" Superboy roared. He ran toward the enemy soldiers who were recovering from their fall and began flinging them left and right like mere dolls. When a couple fired on him, he brought both his fists down on the concrete floor, causing the whole place to shudder as if hit by an earthquake. Several of the soldiers who had just stood up, were abruptly knocked down again like ten-pins.

"Or…not," Robin mumbled. Hearing a strange banging noise coming from a sealed crate, Robin hurried over to it. "Okay…whatever's in there wants to get out, so it's probably a prisoner, too." Shrugging, he attached a magnesium strip onto the right hand side of the crate. Then, pulling a tab to activate the chemical reaction, he stood back and covered his eyes. The magnesium burned hot for a couple seconds, then the entire right side of the crate fell open.

Much to his surprise a perfectly round sphere rolled out and blinked (inquisitively?) at him. The next thing he knew, the sphere went into attack mode and rolled (angrily?) at the enemy soldiers who were still shooting at them.

_Can a thing show anger or curiosity_? Robin wondered, only to duck as a piece of metal grating that Superboy had thrown went flying by him, just barely missing his head. _And what's with the Super-kid? Doesn't he know I'm on __**his**__ side?_

"Unfortunately for you…no, he doesn't."

Robin spun around only to be confronted by a really grotesque figure in a robe. His eyes widened in disgust when he spied an exposed brain! The figure had a pasty white face, his expression smug, evil.

"I may not remember a lot about this mission, but I do remember you!" As he spoke, Robin inched his way toward the new threat, readying a pair of birdarangs. "You're Psimon, the ex-leader of the Fearsome Five."

"I am impressed, Robin," Psimon replied with a smirk. "Psimon says…lay down your—!"

Before the former leader of the Fearsome Five could complete his command, the sphere slammed into him from the side, knocking him unconscious. The sphere turned to Robin, its control lights blinking at him.

"Um…thanks?" Robin offered.

The sphere blinked again as if to say _"You're welcome."_ Then, at the sounds of pounding at the door, it began rolling back and forth impatiently.

Robin's eyes widened. "Right…time to get out." He turned to the door, seeing that large sections of the ceiling and catwalk had landed in front of it. "Okay…only exit blocked, so—?" He waved at Superboy to get his attention. "Uh, hey! Super-kid, um, think you could, you know, fly us out of here?"

In answer, Superboy ran toward the door and rammed into it at a full tilt. The heavy fire door along with the debris from the catwalk fell back onto the onrushing enemy soldiers. Superboy kept bounding up the stairs, leaping from landing to landing, without bothering to check if Robin was following him.

"And…that works, too," the Boy Wonder said with a shrug. Waving at the sphere, he called. "Let's go."

Taking the stairs two at a time, Robin ran a quick systems check on his wrist computer. "Uh-oh," he muttered. "This is not good." Heat signatures showed that all the exits were blocked with enemy soldiers and more were moving in. They needed another way out. Pausing a moment, he checked for weaknesses that would allow a quick way out. At last, he saw that part of the building's east wall was less structurally sound than that surrounding it. "That's it!" Speeding up, he tried to catch up to the super-clone.

"Hey, Super-kid—!" To his shock, the super clone was suddenly in front of him, grabbing him by his tunic. _Okay…he can definitely move fast._

"I am the Super_**boy**_! I was created to replace Superman and…?" He faltered. "I…can't remember." His face suddenly filled with the same fury that never seemed far from the surface. He lifted Robin by his red tunic and shook him like a helpless puppet. "How did I get here? Why can't I remember?"

"Hey, whoa, there! Look, I don't know what's going on. I can't remember what I'm doing here either." He held his arms out in a placating motion. "But I want to help—"

"I don't _**need**_ or _**want**_ your help!" In another fit of ire, Superboy flung Robin over the railing. He leaped up to the next level, and angry that he wasn't making fast enough progress, slammed his fists into the east wall—in the exact spot that Robin had been about to tell him to do the very same thing.

As Robin tumbled down several flights, he managed to right himself and fired off his grapnel. It latched onto a railing a few levels up, and stopped his fall. Relieved that he was not about to die at the moment, he just hung there until he caught his breath.

"Hey, you're welcome for the rescue," he yelled up the stairwell. Then added in a disgruntled undertone, "Super-jerk."

He hit the retract button on his grapnel and zipped back up. As he was about to release the safety line, he heard and felt the building shake as Superboy burst through the wall farther up. He just managed to jump back onto the stairs as large pieces of the wall came smashing down. He crouched and covered his head with his cape. "Sheesh…! The guy's like a super-hippo in a china shop." He shook his head. "Next time, he can rescue himself from the evil, mad scientist!"

Recovering his grapnel, he tucked it back into his utility belt when he felt more rumbling. "Okay…now what?" Again, taking the stairs two at a time, he ran up to the level with the gaping hole in the wall that Superboy had smashed through. "All right, now _this _is what I'm talking about."

About to fire his line to the roof, he again felt the building shake. However, this time he also heard accompanying explosions all around him. Simultaneously, he felt a presence in his mind.

_Robin! Can you hear me?_

"What the—? Who—?" Another explosion shook the building.

_Robin, listen to me. You are suffering from memory loss brought on by Psimon!_

"D'uh…I got that part already," Robin replied. He shot out his jump line and zipped up to the roof.

_We're coming for you and Superboy. Where are you?_

"Sorry…that's classified." Landing on the roof, he rolled to absorb the impact, getting to his feet only to be knocked down by yet another explosion. _Oh boy…this is __**so**__ not good._

_Robin, what is it? What's going on? _

"Get out of my head!" _2 times 2 is 4…4 times 4 is 16…16 times 16 is 256…256 times 256 is 65, 536… _

He ran to the edge to see the safest route down. There were soldiers running everywhere, scrambling vehicles, loading supplies and personnel. It looked like a general evacuation.

_Times tables…seriously, dude?_

"KF?" That gave him pause.

_Yes! Now tell us where you are!_

"I'm on the roof of the main building of the compound. The Super-jerk's gone…don't know where he went." He checked his wrist computer, his eyes widening. There was a massive energy build up coming from below ground. "KF…lock onto my signal. How far out are you?"

_Ten minutes!_

"Not gonna make it, buddy. This popsicle stand is wired to blow in the next two minutes."

_What? Get to high ground, then! _

"Can't…it's going nuclear."

_M'Gann, you've gotta pour on the juice!_

"Don't! Do not come here! Turn around now!" As he spoke, Robin made his way down the same jump line that he'd used earlier and climbed back through the same opening in the wall.

_No! Rob—!_

"I'm gonna ride this thing out in one of the sub-basements I was in earlier. I'm pretty sure it's nuke hardened. Don't worry about me…just get away from the blast zone."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary**: The tall, mysterious figure deliberately brought his hands up to the hood and uncovered his face…

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Author's Note, Acknowledgements, & Disclaimer**: See Part 1

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 1]**

"_I'm gonna ride this thing out in one of the sub-basements I was in earlier. I'm pretty sure it's nuke hardened. Don't worry about me…just get away from the blast zone."_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 2]**

Robin ran down the stairs to the lowest level he could get to. He kept checking the countdown on his wrist computer. There was almost no time left. He finally reached the lowest level—the 10th sub-basement—and pushed the door open. Not knowing what to expect, he readied a birdarang as he rushed in.

He dove through the door, coming up in a defensive crouch. He looked around for any signs of an enemy, but it seemed that he was alone. _Great, everyone's evacuated_, he thought. The countdown clock told him he had less than 20 seconds until the nuclear device went off. Searching quickly, he spotted a door and ran toward it. It was a small storage closet.

With the seconds counting down, Robin closed the door behind him and slid down into a crouched position, sheltering under his Kevlar/Nomex cape again. He made himself as small as possible and activated his belt's emergency beacon.

Whatever happened, Batman would come for him…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Aqualad hated to do it, but as the leader it fell to him to make the hard call. _Robin is right…we must turn around._

_But-!_ The others protested. However, they each knew that he was right. The bioship was a wonderful vehicle, but it had its limitations. It would never survive a nuclear explosion. As Miss Martian turned the bioship around, she felt the telltale psychic touch of Superboy's mind. It was still angry and undisciplined, almost like a wild animal, but she knew his texture almost as well as she knew her own.

"Conner!" she cried out, immediately changing direction.

Behind them, the horizon suddenly lit up with the impossible brightness of a new star. The onboard instruments went haywire momentarily as the world around them whited out. A few seconds later the shockwave slammed into the ship, swatting it out of the sky like a mosquito…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

As the mushroom cloud gradually dissipated above ground, a boom tube suddenly appeared ten levels below ground. A cloaked and hooded figure, face hidden in shadow, emerged slowly, his regal bearing identifying him as someone used to being in command. He was accompanied by several shadowy figures dressed in dark clothing. They moved cautiously through the rubble. The entire compound overhead had been obliterated, along with several square miles of open desert terrain.

_It was a tragic necessity_, he reminded himself. _All for the greater good_. "The signal is strongest beyond there." He indicated a rubble-strewn area.

A giant of a man, bowed respectfully. "Yes, Master." He turned and addressed the rest of the men with hand signals only. They quickly set upon the debris, hauling it out of the way.

After several minutes of watching his men digging through the rubble, the master again addressed his giant servant. "How much longer?"

Pausing, the giant bowed respectfully. "Only a few more minutes, Master. The damage this far down is not as great as several levels up."

"Yes, this level was specifically designed to withstand a nuclear explosion. It is a miracle the boy found his way down here." _But then, he is the detective's handpicked protégé_. He turned as he heard someone call out.

"We are clear, Master!"

Nodding, the cloaked figure walked toward the door, his steps measured. The readings from his handheld electronic notepad indicated that the signal coming from the other side of the newly exposed door was growing weaker. However, he knew that the detective was already on his way. They had little time to recover the protégé before he arrived.

"Open the door." As the men were about to follow suit, he held up his hand. "Wait. Do not forget who is on the other side."

Heeding their master's warning, the men took up defensive postures before opening the door, bringing their weapons up to bear as an added precautionary measure. The detective was a formidable opponent. His protégé should not be underestimated.

At the giant servant's nod, one of the men kicked the door in. The silence that greeted them was somewhat anticlimactic. Was the boy not here? Had he in fact fooled everyone?

The giant shined a light into what was little more than a broom closet. They could see that like the outer room, it was also buried under heavy rubble from a ceiling collapse. The largest piece of steel-reinforced concrete had to weigh in excess of a few hundred pounds.

Without waiting to be told, the servants began to clear out the rubble in the closet. The largest piece could not fit through the door, so it had to be jacked up. After several more minutes, they gathered what they needed to make a fulcrum. After a few tries, they successfully lifted the heavy piece of debris.

Underneath, lay a small black lump that caught the master's attention. Gently lifting the familiar black cape with subdued yellow lining, he saw the lifeless figure of the Boy Wonder. He nodded at the giant who immediately bent down and picked up the boy. The master studied the boy's still face. If not for the red gash along his forehead and the bloody, six-inch rebar protruding from his right side, it would seem that the boy was merely sleeping.

At his master's imperceptible signal, the giant yanked the deadly piece of metal out of the boy and removed the utility belt, carelessly tossing both on the floor. Taking a final look around, the mysterious "master" pressed a device that resembled a TV remote control, and a boom tube appeared.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A half hour later, a green glow suddenly filled the demolished laboratory, announcing the arrival of the Justice League and Young Justice. Several of the heroes were suspended within the protection of a power ring's emerald aura provided by Green Lanterns Hal Jordan and John Stewart.

Standing in the center, Batman brought up his wrist computer and quickly typed a query, checking for radiation levels. Despite the interior damage to the underground chamber, the heavy, nuclear-hardened shell that protected it had held. It was clean—no radiation.

"It's clear." Batman signaled the two Green Lanterns that it was safe to turn off their protective auras. As the auras dissipated, the heroes fanned out to conduct a search.

The Flash and Kid Flash conducted a super-speed search of the sub-basement, but shook their heads at Batman when they came up empty. The Martian Manhunter and his niece, Miss Martian, sent out mental feelers for Robin's unique psychic signature, while Superman and Superboy used their enhanced vision powers to assist in the search. They, too, shook their heads in disappointment.

While the others worked around him, Batman wordlessly bent down and picked up Robin's discarded utility belt. Deactivating the emergency homing signal, he then picked up the bloodstained rebar. Glaring at it for a long moment, he reached into his utility belt and took out a plastic zip-lock bag. Placing the heavy piece of metal in the evidence bag, he stood and began the slow, painstaking process of finding clues to Robin's whereabouts.

Batman saw several smudged footprints all around the debris field and noted drag marks and other indicators that showed the area around the supply closet had been recently cleared. At least one clear footprint showed split-toe footwear. Spotting the fulcrum in the closet, he realized that it had been constructed to lift a heavy piece of the concrete-reinforced ceiling that had caved in.

He compared the piece of rebar in the evidence bag to the ones sticking out of the concrete slab in the closet. It was a clear match in size and weight. That's when he saw the pool of drying blood directly beneath the concrete slab. A cold sensation in the pit of his stomach began to work its way outwardly to his extremities, making him feel a bit lightheaded.

Batman scowled resentfully at the offending piece of debris. Robin must have been trapped underneath that thing. The amount of blood showed that he had been seriously injured, maybe worse. Batman clenched his fist. No, he would not fall into the destructive trap of _"What if?"_ before analyzing all of the clues.

And he didn't need a bunch of super-powered _idiots_ with two left feet destroying his crime scene.

"I need everybody out, except Flash and Superman." Batman's low, raspy growl made the others jump.

"No! I want to help!" Superboy cried. "Please…!"

Batman looked up at the young clone. The boy's agonized face spoke volumes. When the team had been debriefed, the older heroes had been shocked at the Injustice League's use of Psimon to wipe the teens' memories. Superboy especially was suffering from a deep sense of guilt over abandoning Robin. He had practically choked in shame and self-hatred when he admitted that he'd thrown the Boy Wonder down the stairwell and never looked back.

"Don't you think you've done enough?" Superman demanded. "A great kid is missing because of your actions—!"

The younger heroes immediately jumped in Superboy's defense, angry at the Man of Steel's accusation.

"It wasn't his fault!" M'Gann protested.

"Superboy didn't know what he was doing—!" Kid Flash pleaded. Robin was his best friend, but he couldn't hold Superboy's actions against him.

"—None of us did—!" Aqualad spoke quietly, but forcefully.

"—How can you say that—?" Artemis demanded, her eyes accusing. Were all fathers as cruel to their kids as hers?

"We're all to blame—!" M'Gann tried again, anguished.

"That's enough!"

The barely uttered words broke through the others' argument and caught them by surprise. They turned and stared at the Dark Knight who glared back with his normally cold, stoic expression. The two Martians, however, knew that it was nothing more than a façade, hiding a barely suppressed, smoldering rage.

Miss Martian had to reinforce her mental shields to stem the waves of fury and untold pain that radiated from him. The emotions were so dark, so black that they rivaled the very worst that Superboy had been feeling while suffering from amnesia.

"I have work to do."

He turned his back to them, knelt down and got to work, collecting whatever evidence he could. He didn't bother to repeat himself; instead, he concentrated on performing the detailed procedures.

The others exchanged looks and without further word, everyone with the exception of the Flash and Superman left quietly, protected by the two Green Lanterns' power rings.

In his civilian persona of Barry Allen, the Flash was a top, police forensic scientist, so he needed no special instructions on what needed to be done. He took the small case that Batman handed him and proceeded to bag and tag evidence.

A few minutes later, on closer inspection of the concrete slab, the Flash discovered hair and blood samples attached to the underside. He called Superman over and with the Kryptonian's microscopic and x-ray vision, the speedster was also able to dust for skin samples as well.

Working steadily, the Flash refused to think about whom the samples they were gathering belonged to. Every few minutes, he'd catch a glimpse of Batman, quietly pointing out something on the floor that he wanted Superman to check with his enhanced vision. Then, the World's Greatest Detective either disregarded it or knelt down and added it to their growing pile of evidence.

Funny…the Flash had always wanted to work alongside Batman on a case, but he had never had the opportunity to do so. He was honored that his friend and colleague had specifically requested his help. He just wished the circumstances were different.

As the Flash worked, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying back to the dark stain under the concrete slab. _It's so much blood_, he thought.

And Robin was small for his age.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"How long?"

"Approximately two hours."

"Then we must work fast—"

"No…we are not ready—"

"We have no choice."

"But—"

"If we do not immerse him in the pit now, it will be too late."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Awareness returned in stages. He breathed in the faint hint of candle wax, as a cool breeze wafted gently across his cheek. He turned slightly into his pillow, only to be caught in a bright shaft of sunlight. He groaned. Alfred had drawn the curtains again as a prelude to getting him out of bed. He had less than three minutes before the no nonsense valet came back and yanked his covers off.

Eyes closed, Dick turned onto his back and sighed. _Major calculus exam today_, he reminded himself. At least he'd studied prior to last night's patrol.

He lay still not quite ready to face the morning. Unconsciously, he started making a mental list of what he had to do today: visit the library to return the books he'd checked out for his ancient history research project; talk to his guidance counselor regarding academic tracking; apply for a summer internship at Wayne Tech, or rather, Freddy Loyd would apply and hopefully avoid the whole Wayne heir baggage.

He sat up and stretched, gasping at an unexpected pain, shooting out from his right side. Grimacing in discomfort, Dick's hands went automatically to the spot, holding it until the spasm passed. What was that? Was he injured last night? He wracked his brain, trying to recall last night's patrol…

…_It had been a pretty routine night. The Dynamic Duo surveyed the Gotham City streets below, teeming with nightlife and its nefarious denizens. It was just a few minutes before midnight and they'd already stopped two muggings, three burglaries, one attempted rape—Batman had made Robin sit that one out—and caught the Riddler before he'd had a chance to ask his usual "clever-in-his-own-mind" riddle._

_Shortly after midnight, Batman returned Robin to the Batcave. It was a school night and Dick Grayson had an important test the next day…_

All in all, it had been an atypically quiet night for the Gotham Knights.

Curious, he pulled up his tee shirt and checked the area just above his right hip. Nothing. Just clear, smooth skin. What's more, the pain he'd felt had already faded away.

"Huh." He shrugged. _Well, that calculus test won't take itself. Time to hit the mats!_

Tossing the covers to the side, Dick was about to about assume the pushup position and knock out his daily one hundred, when he finally realized he wasn't in his own room. He looked around. Correction: he wasn't in Wayne Manor.

"What the heck's going on?" he muttered. Climbing out of bed, he walked carefully around the room, taking in the accommodations. The room was very grand, much larger and more ostentatious than any of the bedrooms in the manor. Admittedly Wayne Manor had more than its fair share of (in Dick's opinion) _ugly_ antiques, but Alfred maintained the bedrooms, and his taste tended to run to understated elegance.

As Dick ran a quick 360-degree check of his surroundings, he realized that the heavy Chinese-styled antique furnishings that lay scattered about seemed to have been selected for someone's grandiose (if somewhat questionable) taste, and if the bed were any indication, not for the user's comfort.

He ran his hands along the walls, which were covered in hand-painted wallpaper, depicting different Eastern mythological motifs: The celestial dragon fighting evil spirits, its serpentine form protectively coiled round the earth; _Pangu _separating the sky and earth—the _yin_ and _yang—_and defending all that lived on the land and sea from harm; _Nü Wa_ on her winged, dragon-drawn thunder chariot mending the cracks in the sky and shielding all that lay below.

_Hmm…all about powerful beings protecting the earth. Is that supposed to mean something?_ he wondered.

He smirked to himself as his fingers lightly touched hidden microphones that had been subtly camouflaged into each scene. He looked up to the gilded ceiling, noting the elaborately intricate, repeating design on the gold leaf—not to mention, the miniature cameras peeking out from recessed corners.

_So…I'm a prisoner then._

He was about to check the bedroom door, when indistinct noises that sounded like stick fighting finally seeped into his awareness. As he listened, he realized that he'd been hearing it all along, but hadn't made the connection. Walking to the glass balcony doors, he slid them open and stepped outside, peering at the action on the courtyard below.

A group of men were paired up against each other, going through their paces in _b__ō_ staff fighting. The sounds he'd been hearing were the men striking their _b__ō_ staffs as they sparred. He watched as the men expertly went through their katas of _b__ō__jutsu_—thrusting, swinging, and striking—all designed to look like an extension of their natural hand movements.

He knew from personal experience how deceptively dangerous the dance-like movements actually were. His own martial arts training included the _b__ō_, but he was finding escrima sticks more to his liking as he developed his own style, something that Batman had impressed upon him since was nine…

"_Dick, you're exceptionally strong for a boy your age and size, but you're still relatively small and your punches lack sufficient force to bring down a larger opponent. So…" He tossed a bō staff at the boy. "…a good soldier trains to enhance not only his strengths, but also to improve on his weaknesses…"_

_A good soldier…_

Dick smiled at the memory. That first staff had been child-sized, but it had served its purpose. He recalled the laughing taunts from Penguin's henchmen when they first laid eyes on him the night of his debut. He'd silenced their laughter quickly, earning him a "Good job, partner," from Batman and Penguin's undying enmity. Since then, he'd made enemies of just about every criminal on Batman's Rogues Gallery, as well as every two-bit crook trying to make a name for himself.

He studied the fighters below—their moves, style, and—_Whoa!_ One of the fighters had just pulled a sword—a real Chinese broadsword, a _dao_, as deadly as it was beautiful—and actually attacked his sparring partner with it. He slashed his opponent across the abdomen, spun through a complicated kata, and finally lunged. Dick could see the victim's blood spatter outwardly from where he stood. Without hesitation, Dick vaulted over the balcony wall and somersaulted—three, four, five—times until he reached the balcony wall jutting out from three floors below.

Using it as a springboard, Dick launched himself at the sword wielder. He slammed into the man's shoulders, surprising him only momentarily. The fighter whipped around, broadsword held ready to take down this new opponent from above. Taking in the barefooted, slightly built boy, the fighter smirked in amusement. Out of his peripheral vision, Dick spotted the victim's discarded _b__ō_ staff lying where it'd been dropped.

Timing his move, Dick waited for his opponent to attack and ducked just under the sword, diving for the staff. He rolled, using his forward momentum to his advantage, and quickly regained his feet in time to block his opponent's follow-up attack. Dick noted that the other fighter was actually young, about the same age as Red Arrow. As the two boys circled each other, they gathered an audience. Soon, they were surrounded by a ring of other young fighters, their voices excited over the impending battle.

Dick blocked them out. His world had shrunk down to just him and his sword-wielding opponent. The other boy suddenly launched his attack, his expert moves showing Dick that he knew what he was doing. Well, that made two of them.

Dick blocked the other's move, feinted, and spun, countering with a high back kick, which caught his opponent off guard. He quickly followed with a series of jabs and strikes with the staff to the torso, arms, and head. Dick disarmed him at the same time he swept his foe's legs out from under him. He brought the staff down to his fallen opponent's throat, applying enough pressure to cut off his air.

"Yield." It wasn't a question.

The boy lying on his back may not have understood the language, but he got the gist. He chose to glare up defiantly. Dick increased the pressure on his throat causing him to flay like fish out of water.

"Yield!"

Something in the younger boy's cold demeanor got through to his defeated adversary. At last, he quieted and held his hands out in a gesture of surrender.

Nodding, he struggled to utter something in his own language, which caused the crowd around them to break out in surprised murmurs; however, seeing that Dick didn't understand what he'd said, pointed at himself and repeated the word the younger boy had used. "Yield."

Nodding, Dick stepped back, easing the pressure he'd been applying to the other's throat. Not bothering to further acknowledge him, Dick shoved his way through the crowd of boys and young men and went over to the injured victim. Crouching next to him, he turned him over and checked for a pulse. There was none.

He felt an icy hand grip his insides. The victim was just a boy, no older than sixteen. And the other guy—no more than a kid himself—had killed him. They'd only been sparring—training from the looks of it. And no one had bothered to step in to stop the murder. No one had bothered to give the victim first aid. No one had bothered to pick him up from the ground where he lay bleeding out, discarded like yesterday's garbage.

Standing slowly, he looked around, taking in the hostile glares from those around him. Like the victim and his opponent, the crowd was comprised of older boys, ranging in age from about twelve to eighteen. What kind of place was this? A school? If so what kind of school would allow its students to kill each other?

As these thoughts and others flitted through his head, he sensed rather than saw a shift in the mood of those around him. Instantly, he assumed a defensive crouch, ready for what might come. He watched, waiting as the crowd parted.

"That was most impressive, young Grayson. The detective has trained you well."

Dick's eyes widened at the sight of a figure in a hooded cloak that had appeared at the edge of the crowd, face in deep shadow. As Dick slowly stood, the tall, mysterious figure took measured steps toward him and stopped when only a few feet away. Deliberately, he brought his hands up to the hood and uncovered his face.

"Ra's Al Ghul," Dick whispered. _Wizard of Oz? This is more like Dracula's castle_.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

5

**Summary**: "There are more things in heaven and earth, young Grayson, than are dreamt of in your philosophy…"

**Author's Note**: See Part 1

**Acknowledgements: **See Part 1

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 2]**

_Dick's eyes widened at the sight of a figure in a hooded cloak that had appeared at the edge of the crowd, face in deep shadow. As Dick slowly stood, the tall, mysterious figure took measured steps toward him and stopped when only a few feet away. Deliberately, he brought his hands up to the hood and uncovered his face._

"_Ra's Al Ghul," Dick whispered. Wizard of Oz? This is more like Dracula's castle._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 3]**

Batman, assisted by the Flash, worked tirelessly in the Justice League forensic lab. He ran DNA scans on the hair and blood samples found under the concrete slab and the six-inch rebar. They also ran a chemical analysis of the soil and dust samples he'd collected from the floor of the lab. Using a mini-handvac, he'd meticulously collected the samples from places that showed signs of having been walked on. It was a long shot and would probably prove a dead end, but that was typical of most detective work.

It came as no surprise a few hours later when the hair and blood analysis came back as a DNA match for Richard John Grayson AKA Dick Grayson. Despite having expected it, Batman still felt as if he'd been punched in the gut when he read the results.

When the match came up, he'd walked out of the lab, seeking a place to be alone. Not sure how he found himself in the Watchtower's scenic viewing room, he walked up to the panoramic window. The view of the earth below generally calmed him with its peaceful, ethereal beauty. Today, he was oblivious to the view before him.

Instead, he felt a growing despair, coupled with a seething rage that had been building since he'd realized Robin was missing and desperately needed an outlet.

Without thinking, Batman punched the window with his right fist, followed by the left…the right again. Repeat. Fortunately (or _**un**_fortunately depending on your point of view) the viewing window was comprised of transparent Kryptonian/Thanagarian/Martian composite materials, which rendered it almost as invulnerable as Superman. This was the only reason it withstood the relentless pounding it received from Batman's fists.

The Dark Knight didn't know how long he continued punching his anger, frustration, fear, and hatred at whoever was responsible not only for hurting Robin but also for his boy's disappearance; however, when he was finally able to register his surroundings, he saw that he was on his knees in the dark, the Watchtower's orbit having taken it to Earth's night side.

He realized that he was leaning with his forehead pressed against the completely undamaged window.

_Damn stupid aliens with their damn stupid composite, invulnerable materials._

Standing slowly, he glared once more at the window, ignoring the spectacular starscape beyond. About to turn away, a call for him came over the Watchtower's intercom.

"Batman, you're needed in the forensics lab." The Flash's voice sounded professional, but urgent. "I've got something."

Turning, Batman ran back to the lab. Maybe there was hope yet.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Dick sat across the table from his host, watching suspiciously as one of the servants unobtrusively served breakfast. They were seated in a relatively small, private dining room. The table could seat up to six comfortably, but was set for only two. Dick had nodded at a silent question from the server who held up a pitcher of orange juice and then one of milk.

He quietly thanked the server, who gave him a fleeting look of surprise for the courtesy.

_Looks like Ra's doesn't know how to treat his employees_, he thought wryly.

Dick picked up his knife and fork but didn't touch his food (and really, how did they know he preferred southwestern style omelets?) waiting until Ra's Al Ghul took his first bite and didn't keel over and die.

Shrugging, Dick dug into his breakfast. As he took his first bite, he had to pause to savor it. _Wow…that's really good_, he thought. He almost felt disloyal to Alfred, but his sense of pragmatism won. He was a prisoner, and prisoners had to eat to keep up their strength until a chance for escape availed itself.

And to withstand whatever their captors planned to do with them. Eating his favorite omelet for breakfast had to count as the least problem he'd encounter while here…

As the breakfast dishes were being cleared, Al Ghul sat back, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. Dick watched him, playing absentmindedly with his water glass. He admired how the light prism broke into rainbow patterns through the heavy-leaded, cut crystal. As he sat, waiting for whatever Al Ghul planned to say, Dick made a final assessment of the room.

While he'd been eating, Dick had kept a running tally of the number of servants and guards that entered and left the room. He'd "accidentally" dropped his napkin at one point and taken a quick look behind him.

There were two armed guards at the door that led to a corridor, through which he'd been escorted on his way to this room. Unless his sense of direction was off, Dick determined that the corridor ran along an east-west axis through the house.

A third guard stood outside the door that led to the kitchens.

No more than two different servants had walked in and out of the small breakfast nook at any given time. The windows beyond overlooked a balcony and gardens below. His host had been gracious enough to give him a brief tour as they waited for breakfast. Al Ghul had proudly pointed out the rare plants, some that had been extinct but for his scientists' efforts.

Dick's sharp eyes took in the rocky, mountainous surroundings. He could make out harsh blizzard conditions that inexplicably ended at the far side of a footbridge—the Bridge of All Souls—spanning a wide river gorge in the distance.

On the near side of the bridge, an elaborate gate welcomed weary travelers with pagoda-style winged roofs in stair step design. It had Chinese characters proclaiming the protection of the goddess _Rama Kushna_, according to Al Ghul, warning all who entered that it was a sanctuary for those who sought inner peace. From the gate, a dirt path headed toward Al Ghul's compound. Dick learned that it was an old _Kushnite_ monastery, originally built by monks who followed the teachings of _Rama Kushna_. The monks were long gone, their fate lost in time and history.

What held Dick's fascination was that in opposition to the harsh, blizzard-like conditions beyond the footbridge, the weather inside the monastic compound was a perfect 72 degrees Fahrenheit, clear and sunny. It was an island paradise protected by some kind of invisible force field, which kept Mother Nature's fury outside.

"What is this place?" he finally asked, his curiosity gaining the upper hand. "How is it even possible?" _Without Kryptonian science or Thanagarian or Martian or Oan for that matter?_ He added to himself.

"_There are more things in __heaven and earth_, young Grayson, _than are dreamt of in your philosophy_,"Al Ghul replied blandly, paraphrasing Shakespeare. "In other words, not everything can be explained through science or logic."

"Yeah…I got the _Hamlet_ reference." Dick crossed his arms in annoyance. He really hated super-villains who loved to lord their "superior intellect" over mere mortals. "Okay…so, what is it then? Magic? Sorcery? Alchemy? All of the above? What?"

"The ancient, arcane forces at work here in Nanda Parbat are much too complex…too vast and mysterious to be explained away as something as simplistic as magic."

"But—"

"If you were to give up all your worldly goods, study and meditate for a thousand years, you would still fall far short of gaining the knowledge necessary to understanding how the sanctuary of Nanda Parbat was created or how it works."

"Okay…so how about explaining something I _**can**_ understand?" Dick demanded, his stance angry. "Why was I brought here? What do you want with me?"

"All in good time, my young and impatient friend."

With that Al Ghul began to speak on a wide range of subjects, his two favorite being the great strides his scientists were making in cloning several extinct species of animals and his plans for a new world order. A world that was in balance with nature as it was meant to be. He promised to take Dick on a tour of his private zoo within a day or two.

"Depending…on a few factors," Al Ghul added mysteriously.

As his host spoke coldly about eliminating the unwanted masses in order to bring about his new Utopia, Dick counted no less than twenty soldiers walking the garden's perimeter. He thought the gardens were beautiful, but they were definitely not a way out. He scanned the area for other points of egress and decided that a straightforward ground escape wouldn't work.

_So, what does that leave me with_? he wondered.

Dick wasn't naïve enough to believe that the purpose of this little tour was innocent. A man like Ra's Al Ghul didn't wait for breakfast to be served unless he ordered it thus. No, Al Ghul had wanted Dick to see what he was up against—both men and nature.

Dick mentally thanked his host for the intel. Now he knew he had only twenty highly trained assassins to overcome in order to escape before Al Ghul finished his coffee. (Okay, that didn't take into account the over fifty he'd seen sparring in the courtyard and any others he hadn't seen yet.) Besides, if he didn't take his chances now, he'd have to listen—again!—to the megalomaniac talk about his plans for world conquest.

Seriously? It was enough to make a thirteen-year-old boy's head explode!

Nodding at whatever Al Ghul had been saying, Dick closed his fingers around his water glass. As he brought it up to his lips, he suddenly jumped up on the table, leaped and somersaulted over Al Ghul's head, and threw the heavy, leaded glass at the guard by the kitchen door. He didn't need to look to know he'd struck the guard on the temple, or that the hapless guard had fallen over unconscious.

Dick landed on his feet and ran a zigzag pattern to the balcony doors. He hadn't noticed any guns on the guards, but he was taking no chances.

Instead of vaulting down into the garden, he took a running leap to the balcony wall, sprang up, grabbing a trestle-like structure that ran along the outer wall to a protective overhang twenty feet above the balcony. He reached the compound's sloping pagoda-styled rooftop in under fifteen seconds, surprising the lookouts on guard duty. The men were posted on a reinforced walkway along the perimeter of the roof.

Not pausing, Dick ran at the first two guards, leaped over their heads, spun in midair and kicked out, striking them on the lower neck behind their heads. Immediately, he turned his attention to the other ten, armed with _bō_ staffs, warily approaching him.

"Come on, come on," he muttered impatiently. "I don't have all day." As if on cue, eight of the men fanned out as the last two attacked, balancing precariously on the sloped roof. Keeping his eyes on the two men, Dick back flipped toward the two unconscious guards and grabbed one of the _bō_ staffs that lay where it had been dropped. The move had worked when he'd fought the sword-wielder earlier that morning, so…why not?

He turned and faced the remaining eight men, feinted left, then struck. Twirling the staff in his hands with lightning speed, he confused his adversaries for a split second. This was just enough time to sweep their feet out from under them and take off across the roof at a dead run. The old monastery was huge, comprised of several interconnected wings. It was surrounded by several acres of highly patrolled lands, with both human and electronic eyes.

Not to mention the blizzard conditions on the other side of the force field.

It didn't matter. Batman would come for him, but until he arrived, Robin intended to effect his own escape.

He looked up at a humming sound from above. _A predator drone!_ he realized, startled. These thoughts flashed through his mind as he came to the end of the line—the edge of the roof. The roof to the adjacent wing was approximately thirty feet away. Not pausing to consider his options, he used the staff as a pole vault and jumped across the intervening space, somersaulting in midair to gain momentum. He landed easily on the other side, facing the way he'd just come from.

Grinning, he looked up only to have his eyes widen at the sight of Ra's Al Ghul standing next to a giant of a man firing a high-powered rifle…at _**him**_!

He was thrown back as his chest exploded.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 3

[Note: Next update a/o Saturday! Thanks for reading and responding!]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary**: _How long is a lifetime…?_

**Author's Note**: Thanks to everyone that's read and commented; I really appreciate your kind words. Also, thanks to everyone else who's reading and enjoying; I hope you continue to do so.

**Acknowledgements: **See Part 1 for the information I researched on Ubu and Dusan.

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 3]**

_Grinning, he looked up only to have his eyes widen at the sight of Ra's Al Ghul standing next to a giant of a man firing a high-powered rifle…at **him**!_

_He was thrown back as his chest exploded._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 4]**

How long is a lifetime?

In the split second between one heartbeat and the next, he relived every important event of his life: his first quad on the trapeze, his mother's smile, his father catching him…their fall. Bruce, Alfred…Batman and Robin…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Batman ran toward the forensics lab, his formidable countenance a deterrent to any whom he passed along the way. Most either quickly moved to the side or found some random door to duck into. No one wanted to find themselves between the Dark Knight and wherever he needed to be...

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Images flash through his head, frightening images. Hands grabbing him, carrying him somewhere…a dark hallway, no a tunnel…

_Down…down…down…_

He watches, but how? His point of view is skewed. He sees himself as if from high above, being carried by a giant.

His mind flashes back…

He recalls his last birthday.

_Alfred proudly presents his birthday cake—all thirteen candles brightly lit. _

_Bruce grins proudly only to have his face morph into a look of mock horror. "A teenager! God help us all!"_

_Alfred's droll reply is lost as the scene shifts to the Batcave where Batman hands him his special gift—a full set of new throwing stars, similar to batarangs, but red and shaped to resemble a bird of prey—deadly…_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Wonder Woman and Superman, already waiting in the lab, gave Batman sympathetic looks as he ran in, but refrained from speaking. These two heroes were more than just colleagues; they were personal friends, both on and off the job.

Perhaps Batman's recruiting Robin "at the ripe old age of nine" had caused some strain on their relationship from time to time, but deep down each cared for the young hero in his or her own way. After all, Robin had been the first junior partner, protégé to no less than_ Batman_—a grim individual not known for his interpersonal skills.

To everyone's delighted surprise, the junior hero was "all boy" when off the clock, bringing unexpected smiles and a subtle change in the Dark Knight's demeanor—not a ray of sunshine, but not quite so forbidding as before. The other heroes had watched, fascinated, as the two interacted. Robin would mimic his mentor's serious demeanor as they worked side-by-side, while Batman would occasionally place his hand on the boy's shoulder when Robin did something exceptionally well. The Boy Wonder's proud, answering beam would usually result in a softening of his mentor's expression.

For this alone, Robin had been "adopted" by the original seven members of the League as a surrogate nephew. Now, at thirteen he was not only the youngest of the junior partners, but also the most experienced. Naturally, the boy's surrogate aunts and uncles wanted to help in finding and bringing him home.

Batman acknowledged his two powerful colleagues with a slight nod, but immediately put them out of his mind and spoke to the Flash. The Scarlet Speedster was seated at the lab's computer workstation, watching the overhead virtual monitor that displayed the DNA analysis currently running.

"What do you have?" Batman asked, getting down to business.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The scene shifts again.

"_I don't have time for this!"_

_Robin sees himself throwing two birdarangs at Mr. Freeze, cracking his glass-domed helmet. It's a bright, sunny day in Gotham City's Robinson Park; however, the previously festive air of families enjoying the 4th of July has been disrupted by the super-villain's appearance. _

_Suddenly, a black shadow momentarily eclipses the sun as it descends with deadly force on Mr. Freeze, knocking him out. Batman quickly cuffs the villain, but Robin's impatience is palpable. _

"_Let's go…it's **the** day!"_

_His mentor's usually impassive expression softens minutely, a smile not quite breaking through. Leaving Mr. Freeze to the approaching GCPD, Batman squeezes Robin's shoulder. "Let's go partner. Today's the day…"_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"I've got two things. First, we have a human—_male—_DNA hit that doesn't match Robin's," the Flash explained excitedly. "I got it off the bloodstained rebar. The perp probably pulled it out of Robin's body with his bare hand. The JL's forensics computer database is running a cross match with any known criminal files—FBI, DEA, CIA, and Interpol. It's not much…but right now—"

"—Right now, it's all we have." Batman watched the data as it was crunched at a speed too fast for the naked eye to follow, but much too slow for the World's Greatest Detective. "Then again…"

Batman signaled that he wanted to take over the computer station, and the Flash quickly complied. Reaching up to the monitor, Batman placed his gloved fingers on it and swiped the screen.

Immediately, the data crunching program was moved over to a second virtual screen that appeared to the right of the first, leaving the monitor in front of him blank.

Batman's fingers flew across the keyboard, as he typed in a variety of coded commands. The others watched what seemed to be gibberish appear on the screen above them. Momentarily, the Flash began to notice a pattern of sorts, but couldn't quite catch it.

As the Flash and the others tried to make heads or tails of the alphanumeric code that Batman was inputting, the three heroes shook their heads. It made little sense, except apparently to Batman. Soon, the screen started to go through a rapid shuffle of photographic files.

"What program is that, Bruce?" Wonder Woman asked.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Other images follow, confusing scenes that fade just out of Dick's reach, like a soft mist without substance.

_Kid Flash smiling, laughing excitedly…Kaldur stoic, proud…Speedy angry, pointing accusingly at Green Arrow, throwing his hat on floor, stalking out of the Hall of Justice._

Other strangely familiar scenes and faces follow in rapid succession like a DVD player on fast-forward, too many to make sense of…

_The same Superboy he saw earlier, sleeping in a glass pod…A green girl with red hair and freckles…Mr. Twister…Bane…Kobra…Bruce playing basketball with him…other faces passing by too quickly to follow…_

_The same giant carries him, this time from the sub-basement in Bialya. Ra's Al Ghul accompanies him as they step into a boom tube…_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"I called up my Rogue's Gallery from the central computer in the Batcave. It's extrapolating the DNA records of known criminals that I have on file and looking for a match. Whoever took Robin from a nuclear hardened laboratory located 10 stories below ground—following a nuclear blast and risking radiation poisoning—did so for a reason. Someone wanted Robin badly enough to get there before us, while the area outside was still hot enough to melt steel. The only people who might want him that much are criminals we've crossed paths with.Someone who knows us…knows him…"

…_And his relationship to me,_ he added silently.

"Someone who knows he can hurt you by hurting Robin," Superman opined, realization dawning.

Batman didn't bother to respond to the obvious. Besides, he doubted that was the only reason Robin was taken.

"Barry, you said you had two things," Wonder Woman reminded.

"Oh, right!" The speedster zipped over to the electron microscope. He made some quick adjustments, then waved Batman over. "Here…take a look at this. It's from the soil samples you collected."

Batman studied the screen before him. It displayed several particles with distinctive, repeating patterns. "Looks organic…almost spore-like."

"That's what I thought," the Flash agreed. "I ran a chemical-analysis just to be sure." At this stage, his excitement began to show. "It's definitely organic, but you're not gonna believe this!" He waited, bouncing excitedly on his toes, practically vibrating.

Batman just glared at him, his expression threatening a very painful retribution if the Flash didn't get to the point.

The speedster visibly deflated and sighed. "You are no fun, you know that? I contacted a buddy of mine at UCC," he began, referring to the University of Central City. "He teaches bioengineering and botany…helps me sometimes with identifying plant samples and the most likely places they can be found around Central."

Batman's glare became even more menacing if possible. He respected Barry Allen. He knew that his JL colleague was one of the top forensic scientists in the country—often sought after by other agencies for consultation. Besides working full time for the Central City Police Department, Allen had also published several papers that were now required reading in his field.

It was for this very reason that Batman had specifically requested the speedster's assistance. Unfortunately, it was also why he couldn't understand how such an apparently competent individual never seemed to get to the point. His impatience finally getting to him, Batman took out a batarang and prepared to throw it.

The Flash's eyes widened, and he quickly began to explain his findings. "The spore samples aren't from any local plants. In fact, my friend said that if he hadn't seen them, he wouldn't have believed—!"

"Get to the _point_!" Batman interrupted, practically spitting out the last word.

"I'm getting there," the Flash said, holding out his hands nervously. "My friend said that he'd seen a similar slide of spores a few years ago. One of his graduate students was studying prehistoric plant samples that had been discovered, almost perfectly preserved, somewhere in the Himalayas."

At the speedster's words, Batman's stance underwent a subtle change. He no longer looked like he'd like nothing better than to pin the Flash to the wall with a few well-placed batarangs; instead, he had the appearance of a man who was listening closely, knowing that he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear.

"The spore samples that you collected are not from any known, living plant—at least they _shouldn't_ be from a living plant at all because the spores are that of a species of plant that's been extinct for almost 20 million years. And yet, the samples analyzed were fresh, almost as if someone had taken a walk in their garden that very morning and stepped on whatever plant the spores came from."

His words were met by murmurs of "Great Hera!" and "Great Krypton!" from their two super-powered friends. Batman simply felt the same icy hand that had gripped him earlier take an even firmer hold of his insides.

However, before the Dark Knight could make an intelligent reply to the forensics report, the DNA recognition program of his Rogue's Gallery finally got a hit. Displayed on the virtual monitor above them was a typical mug shot of a large, bald man with Middle Eastern features.

Batman glared accusingly at the screen, his fists balled, somehow holding back the seething anger that lay just below the surface. He needed to get out—now—before he hit someone. Without a word, he turned on his heel and headed out the door.

He knew exactly whose face was in dire need of a good pounding. He'd seen him less than a month ago, accompanied by the man in the mug shot, in Cape Canaveral, Florida.

Only at last sighting, his adversary had been falling to his death.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The scene changes.

_He's in a dark chamber…the Batcave? No…it's creepier. _

_The chamber has a green tinge…he senses evil._

_And then he sees it—!_

_**No…!**_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

He woke with a gasp. The excruciating pain radiating out from his chest—from all over—was almost his undoing. He collapsed back on the bed, curled into himself until the close to unbearable pain passed.

What happened?

Where was he?

He raised his head and looked around in a panic.

And then he remembered—!

How long is a lifetime?

In the split second between one heartbeat and the next, he relived every important event of his life: his first quad on the trapeze, his mother's smile, his father catching him…their fall. Bruce, Alfred…Batman and Robin…

His being shot with a high-powered rifle…

And rising from the Lazarus Pit!

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"Hey! Wait!" the Flash shouted as Batman disappeared around the corner. "Who is this guy?"

No sooner did he ask, than the monitor began spewing out the vital statistics of the man on screen. The Flash scanned through the data, his analytical mind hitting on the important information:

**Name**: Ubu

**Height**: 6' 10" (approx.)

**Weight**: 310 (approx.)

**Known Affiliations**: Ra's Al Ghul; League of Shadows

**Occupation:** manservant, skilled assassin, bodyguard

**Last sighting**: Cape Canaveral, FL; accompanying Ra's Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul; attempted sabotage of Ferris Spacecraft rocket launch; stopped by Batman and Robin

**Current Whereabouts**: Unknown

"So, this Ubu character has Robin?" the Flash asked.

"No, not Ubu," Wonder Woman murmured, with a slight shake of her head.

"Ra's Al Ghul," Superman finished, turning and quickly following in Batman's wake.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Dick threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. He checked the bedroom door—locked. Grim faced, he sprinted to the balcony doors, also locked. No problem. He went to the bedside table, swept it free of everything on it and grasped it to pick it up. It didn't budge. Surprised, he glared at it. It was an antique made of highly glossed, inlaid cherry wood and didn't look like it weighed more than 50 pounds. He worked out with much heavier weights everyday at home. Even on the rings and other apparatuses, he had to be able to lift his own weight to perform his acrobatic moves.

A quick appraisal of the table told the story: it was bolted to the floor.

"We'll see 'bout _that_!" he muttered. He spun and kicked out viciously with the heel of his right foot, breaking the table legs in quick succession. "It was an eyesore anyway." Shrugging, he picked up the tabletop, which was all that was left of the antique nightstand. He hefted it, testing its weight and solid feel. Satisfied, he crossed the room to the balcony doors.

He hissed as he stepped on a broken piece of wood from the demolished table legs. Looking down at his bare feet, he realized he'd have trouble managing an effective escape without shoes. Putting the table down, he quickly searched the room and much to his disgust found a pair of sandals. They wouldn't be his first choice, but they were better than nothing.

Hurrying back to the balcony doors, he studied the way the sunlight refracted through the glass. Deducing that the glass was re-enforced with some kind of unknown material, he decided that the only way to determine if he could break it was to just do it. He adjusted the two-handed grip on the tabletop, and began to spin, gaining momentum much like a discus thrower. When he determined he'd reached a sufficient velocity, he flung the tabletop at the glass doors.

It practically bounced straight back, narrowly missing him. To his disgust, the glass door remained completely unharmed. Frustrated, Dick repeated his efforts. By the third attempt, a definite spider web of newly formed cracks appeared on the otherwise clear glass. By the seventh try, he was finally rewarded when the doors disintegrated with a loud crash.

"Lucky seven," he said with a smirk, as he took a running leap through the cascade of falling glass onto the balcony. Of course, the crash had probably alerted everybody for miles.

_Batman probably heard it all the way back in the Batcave_, he added sardonically. But he had to attempt an escape. He refused to play Ra's Al Ghul's sick game, whatever it was. He refused to be a pawn or accept the role of helpless boy hostage. _Besides…robins don't like cages_.

Not pausing, he once again vaulted over the waist-high balcony wall, demonstrating in a graceful, controlled fall that was more aerial ballet than a means of escape just why his codename was that of the harbinger of spring. Reaching a lower landing, he used it as a springboard to execute a series of somersaults that easily helped him reach the ground.

Unfortunately, the welcoming committee arrived at about the same time as he landed. _This time…no prisoners!_ Not waiting for the swarm of ninjas—or whatever they were—to advance, he attacked. There was nothing subtle about his approach. He ran toward them, leapt above their heads, and used their heads and shoulders as platforms to literally run on.

His light form made it fairly easy for Robin to successfully skip over the heads of the startled would-be assassins. Robin's training regularly included balance exercises. Only Batman's idea of balance training included programing the targeting computer to fire low level lasers at his protégé to throw him off the three-inch wide poles he had to stay on—all while fighting off as many as ten training-bots at a time. _That_ was hard work and oftentimes painful. This?

_~Pffftt!~ piece o'cake! _Robin grinned, kicking out and knocking a few heads together as one or another ninja attempted to grab his ankles.

When he was close to the far edges of the crowd, someone finally took off the kid gloves and began slashing at him with a Chinese broadsword. Okay, this was getting serious. He'd seen just how deadly the weapon was that first morning. Using some hapless person's shoulder as a springboard, Dick leaped avoiding the sharp-edged _dao_, and landed among a surprised trio of ninjas who had been rallying to knock him off.

Wasting no time, he took all three down, recovering one of their _bo_ staffs. With the staff in hand, he turned to face his primary foe—the sword-wielding ninja. An area immediately cleared around them, the remaining foes anticipating his takedown.

His opponent grinned evilly at him.

"When you die, _Ibn al Xu'ffash_, know that it was at the hands of Dusan—the White Ghost!"

Robin rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah? I've heard that one before…from monsters a whole lot scarier than you! And the name's _Robin, the Boy Wonder, _not Ibn al whatever…remember that when I take you down!"

"Brave words, Son of the Bat…let us see you back them."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 4


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary**: _Get 'traught or get dead._

**Acknowledgements: **See Part 1 for the information I researched on the Sensei, Nanda Parbat, and _Ibn al Xu'ffash_.

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 4]**

"_When you die, Ibn al Xu'ffash, know that it was at the hands of Dusan—the White Ghost!"_

_Robin rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah? I've heard that one before…from monsters a whole lot scarier than you! And the name's Robin, the Boy Wonder, not Ibn al whatever…remember that when I take you down!"_

"_Brave words, Son of the Bat…let us see you back them."_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 5]**

Superman caught up to Batman first. "Bruce, where are you going?" He'd gently grabbed Batman's arm as he spoke, effectively restraining him.

"To get Robin, where else?" Glaring, Batman made a couple complicated moves and easily broke the Kryptonian's hold.

Superman grimaced but didn't attempt to touch him again. "By yourself?"

Batman didn't bother answering. He kept walking toward the zeta-tubes, his long strides echoing down the Watchtower's brightly lit corridors.

Frustrated at his friend's refusal to ask for help, Superman was about to demand that Batman listen, when a quiet voice spoke behind them.

"Bruce…we all care for Dick." Wonder Woman faced him stoically. "We all wish to help. Please…let us help."

Batman silently regarded the Amazon for a long moment, his manner hard, inflexible. Finally, he took a deep breath and his grim, uncompromising bearing loosened faintly. Nodding, he led them to the Watchtower's Monitor Womb.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Dick and Dusan had been battling for the better part of an hour. Dick was beginning to tire, while his much larger, more experienced opponent had yet to break a sweat. The Boy Wonder knew that his chances of surviving against Dusan were growing slimmer by the minute.

It was time to change tactics. He bided his time, waiting for an opening. Within a few minutes, Dusan provided it. Grinning, the white-haired assassin twirled his sword in an impressive display, victory a foregone conclusion. Standing with his legs shoulder width apart, he demonstrated his skill with the broadsword, whipping it around him in an almost-faster-than-the-eye-could-follow kata.

Dick kept his eyes on his opponent and the instant he saw an opening, he dove between Dusan's legs. As he slid underneath his overconfident foe, he struck upwards with his staff, hitting the master assassin in the groin, the one area no human male had an effective defense against. As he heard Dusan cry out in pain, Dick rolled to his feet and took off.

Angry shouts accompanying the sounds of pursuit told him that he had only seconds before he was once again captured.

_Get 'traught or get dead,_ he reminded himself.

Sprinting, he ducked into the only place he could find—back inside the former monastery turned palatial home. Dick ran in through an open door, fought off a couple of servants that came at him from opposite directions, and kept going across the high-ceilinged foyer. Avoiding the doors that the downed servants had emerged from, he ran past several opulent rooms until he spotted a hidden door at the base of the servants' back staircase.

Slipping inside, he was surprised to see that it wasn't a small closet; instead, it led to another set of stairs that went down for several more flights. Hurriedly closing the door behind him, he listened for further signs of pursuit. He was "rewarded" by Dusan's furious shouts immediately on the other side of the door.

Time to go. Dick ran lightly down the stairs, his stealth training coming in handy. Reaching the bottom, he found himself in the middle of a long tunnel, undecided over which direction to go. He hated not knowing where the tunnel led, but he disliked what awaited him upstairs even more. Shrugging, Dick mentally flipped a coin and headed right, jogging down the long, rough-hewn tunnel that had been dug out of the rocky ground, keeping an eye out for any branch tunnels.

Every few hundred feet or so, a burning torch offered dim illumination, throwing strange undulating shadows on the uneven surfaces. Grabbing one of the torches, he followed the tunnel feeling slightly better with a source of light to guide his way. After several minutes, he came across a heavy iron door. As luck would have it, almost as soon as he arrived, he heard the faint sounds of pursuit coming from the direction he'd just been.

"Not whelmed…not whelmed at all."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"Ra's Al Ghul's last known hideout was Infinity Island in the Caribbean Sea." Batman spoke while calling up satellite imagery of the island in question. "The compound was compromised last month during the Team's mission to safeguard Dr. Roquette while she wrote a counter-virus to the _Fog_."

The _Fog_ had been a malicious nano-tech computer virus designed to destroy the worldwide communications/electronics network. It was designed to first extract all the data contained within the billions of computer files, and second, internally destroy all of the electronic hardware within the c/e network.

The others nodded, recalling the brilliant scientist who helped prevent the global disaster. They watched as Batman showed them satellite imagery that had been taken less than 24 hours after the _Fog_ had been dissipated. Still images of several heavy air transports lifting off the island showed onscreen before disappearing from all conventional radar.

"Do we know where they went?" Superman asked.

"They covered their tracks quite effectively, except for one serious miscalculation…the _Fog_ attacked Wayne Tech. When Robin took countermeasures to stop it, he tagged it with a locator virus just as it was starting to transmit. Instead of Wayne Tech company secrets, it sent out a ping, and Robin captured its return echo in his glove computer."

Flash observed the Dark Knight's lips twitch slightly upwards. _That's probably his equivalent of a proud papa bragging on his kid._

"A ping?" Diana asked, expression blank.

"A signal bounce-back, somewhat similar to sonar. It sent back a 10-digit grid coordinate." With those words, Batman typed a rapid command, and new satellite imagery appeared on the monitors—a snow-covered, mountainous landscape. "The Himalayas."

The Flash looked at Batman with dawning understanding. "The spores…" he murmured. "The spores were originally discovered in the Himalayas!"

Batman stared at the snow-covered scene, momentarily lost in long-ago memories. "Nanda Parbat…" he whispered.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The underground grotto had a strange backlighting that gave everything a sickly greenish tinge, throwing out odd shadows in its muted illumination. The air was stifling, overlaid with a smell that reminded Dick of rotten eggs. He was standing on a wide ledge that sloped down to a lower chamber. From his higher vantage point, he saw the boiling, churning waters of the Lazarus Pit.

"Is this he?" An amused voice echoed in the cavernous chamber.

Dick whirled toward the sound, finding himself surrounded by ninjas armed with Chinese broadswords. He'd really blown it…walked right into it. _Not 'asterous…not 'asterous at all,_ he grumbled, disgusted with himself.

"He doesn't seem like much." An ancient, stooped figure stepped forward, not bothering to disguise his sneer.

Dick glared at him. The elderly man looked old enough to be somebody's great-great-grandfather several times over. Almost completely bald, his face and hands were so wrinkled and darkened by countless days in the sun that Dick thought he resembled an old, dried-out prune—the kind that Alfred would have thrown out already.

Looking unimpressed, the aged individual circled Dick, leaning heavily on a staff that served secondarily as a walking stick. "I would have thought—if he is indeed who you say he is—that he would be much…taller."

"Hey…people in glass houses, Old Man!" Dick shot back. "You're not so much yourself."

At Dick's words, the old man unexpectedly struck out with the staff and swept the boy off his feet.

"_~Oooff!~_" Dick grunted, surprised as he landed on his backside.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head when addressing your elders, _Boy_!"

"Sensei…" Ra's Al Ghul stepped forward. "There is no need for that. Our young guest understands that he is outnumbered here—"

As the two men spoke, Dick noticed that the ninjas' attention shifted momentarily away from him. Which left him just the opening he needed. Before Al Ghul finished whatever long speech he'd intended, Dick leapt at the two closest guards and quickly took them down, snatching their swords as they fell unconscious. The rest of the ninjas came at him, wary of the two swords that he was expertly wielding.

The Dark Knight and his squire might live by a code of non-lethal takedowns, but it didn't mean they weren't well versed in the use of the deadlier forms of the martial arts. Dick was just as adept with bladed weapons as he was with the _bō_ staff and escrima sticks. In the next few minutes, he demonstrated just how well trained he actually was.

Using the broadswords to strike and parry, he avoided being skewered by his opponents through a judicious use of acrobatics and martial arts. The Sensei and Al Ghul watched, impressed, as the boy seemingly defied gravity, leaping above the heads and shoulders of the trained assassins.

As he somersaulted and twisted in midair, Dick struck out with the swords, inflicting only nonlethal wounds on his attackers. Leaping to avoid his foes' counterattacks, he easily tumbled overhead, spinning to add momentum and force, kicking out at their exposed temples and knocking their heads together. This way he managed to take out several of the enemy at once. Landing, he rolled a couple times before springing back up to his feet.

By round four most of the ninjas were incapacitated—bleeding, unconscious, or both. At this point, the ancient Sensei stepped forth, calling off the remaining assassins.

"Enough! I shall handle the young upstart myself."

"Sensei, do you think it wise? We need him—" Al Ghul began.

"I know much more than you why we need the youngling, my son." As he spoke, the Sensei had been slowly going through the movements of a kata.

At the Sensei's words, Dick's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Care to share with the class?"

Never taking his eyes off his latest challenger, Dick assumed a ready stance that would allow him easy movement in whichever direction he needed. He watched as the Sensei whipped the _bō_ staff with an expertise that overshadowed any of the others whom he had already faced. _The old guy's not going down easy_, he mused.

"It is quite simple, _Ibn al Xu'ffash_," the Sensei replied. "You are the _Vessel_, and once you have been emptied, my essence shall replace yours, much as water is used to fill an empty basin."

"Don't think so," Dick muttered, not liking the implication behind the Sensei's words. "This _Vessel_ is already pretty crowded with room for only one—me! Why don't you just take a dip in the Pit and call it a day? And what's with everyone calling me _Ibn al Zoo-fish_?"

The Sensei gestured at himself, frowning. "This form has reached the end of its usefulness. It has served me well for over a millennia, but it will not survive another emersion in the Lazarus Pit. But you…you are young and healthy. Your two previous emersions in the Pit—"

"—What two previous emersions in the Pit?"

"—Saw to that." The Sensei spoke over Dick, ignoring the interruption. "All your previous flaws, scars, and imperfections were corrected at the time." He gestured at Dick. "You, my young upstart, are the perfect _Vessel,_ ready to receive me."

Dick was suddenly assaulted with images of a ceiling falling on him, a high-powered rifle being fired at him, and his emerging from the Pit—wild, insane…attacking anyone who dared get in his way. He felt a momentary wave of vertigo pass over him.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Batman briefed YJ on the plan of extraction. They would go in stealth mode in the bioship and land approximately one-half kilometer from the Bridge of All Souls. Because of weather conditions, they also had to don inclement weather gear.

Batman would lead Alpha team, comprised of himself, Miss Martian, Artemis, and Zatara. Black Canary would lead Beta team, which was comprised of the remaining members of YJ: Kid Flash, Aqualad, and Superboy.

Kid Flash grumbled under his breath that Batman was taking all the Team's babes for himself. His comment was met with several dark glares and eye rolls. Grinning widely and shrugging nonchalantly, he turned only to catch a fully patented Bat-glare aimed directly at him. The junior speedster gulped and gave him a weak smile, while Artemis simply slapped him on the back of the head.

"_Owww_!" He rubbed the spot she'd hit, just managing not to stick his tongue out at her.

"Kid Idiot," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Wally." Black Canary spoke quietly, but with a commanding presence. "I see a very painful outcome on our next training session." _If you don't settle down_ was implied by her tone; she didn't have to say it aloud.

Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, Wally nodded.

Batman studied their young, anxious faces. "Any questions?" At their headshakes, he said, "Then let's go." _And bring him home_, he added silently.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"But…why?" Dick asked, confused. There was so much more that he wanted to ask besides those two small words, but it all came down to two additional, inconsequential words: "Why me?"

"The exchange of souls takes much from the _Vessel_. The arcane forces at work during the process are very old and very powerful. For the exchange to succeed the soul that currently inhabits the _Vessel_ must either agree to the exchange—"

"—Oh, yeah? Well, I _**don't**_ agree—!"

"—Or…" The Sensei grinned in anticipation of his next words. "…must be closely related by blood. Thus making the exchange one of _like_ blood for _like_ blood."

"What? But…we're not related," Dick protested, shaking his head.

"My son?" The Sensei addressed Ra's Al Ghul.

"Yes, Father?"

_Father_? Dick's eyes widened at the unexpected revelation. Now that he remembered, he'd heard the Sensei address Al Ghul as "_son_" before, but he'd just dismissed it as the way the elder Sensei would address someone younger.

"The young warrior asked earlier why we called him _Ibn al Xu'ffash_. My son, will you please explain to your grandson—"

"Grandson? You've taken too many dips in the Pit, Old Man, if you expect me to believe that!"

"I expect you not to interrupt your elders and to listen carefully."

"Why should I? You're just gonna lie again—"

The Sensei struck him quickly and viciously across the face. "My son…perhaps it is time, you explained why he is called the 'Son of the Bat'—not as a metaphor, but in fact. Impress upon him the honor that will soon be bestowed on him."

"No," Dick whispered, shaking his head, his knees suddenly weak. Lightheaded, he felt as if he were about to faint right there. "_**No**_! It's not true! I'm a Grayson! My parents were—"

"—My daughter, Talia Al Ghul, and your guardian, Bruce Wayne."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Their flight path took them over the northern polar region. This cut their travel time considerably from Happy Harbor, Rhode Island, to Nanda Parbat, located in the Tibetan range of the Himalayas. At least, it had been…the last time Batman had traveled there. The mystical sanctuary had a tendency to disappear for years at a time and then re-appear somewhere else.

As the bioship crossed the intervening distance, Batman closed in on a memory that he had long since locked safely away in the dark recesses of his mind. He recalled a visit almost fifteen years ago by an embittered, though relatively young man—little more than an adventurer, caught in a personal downward spiral after suffering a great personal loss at home—seeking the path to true Justice, or perhaps, it was vengeance he sought. He hadn't been quite sure at the time…

…_Tired, hungry, and suffering from exposure, Bruce stumbles across a long, wooden suspension bridge that traverses a deep river gorge. At some point he must have collapsed because the next thing he knows, he's waking up in a richly furnished room. He immediately turns his face away from the morning sun that's glaring through the drawn drapes._

_He climbs out of bed and quickly dresses in a set of clothing he finds folded neatly on the dresser. He hears what sounds like sticks striking each other from outside and exits to the balcony to investigate. He leans on the railing, watching a large group of young men and boys sparring with what he believes are staffs._

"_Impressive…are they not?"_

_He turns around and finds…_

"…Talia," Batman whispers, staring out the bioship's windscreen. The fear he's been holding at bay comes to the fore. Whatever the reason Ra's Al Ghul took Robin, Batman knows that he may already be too late to save his adopted son.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"It's a lie! My parents were John and Mary Grayson!"

"The Graysons were but a means to an end," Al Ghul explained calmly. "You were adopted by them shortly after your birth. Mary Grayson had recently miscarried, rendering her incapable of ever having children. It was relatively simple to place you with them. The Graysons were desperate for a child…a means to carry on the Flying Graysons legacy."

"No…they were my _real_ parents. They _loved_ me."

"Of course, they were your real parents—in every way that counted. I would never have allowed you to be left with them otherwise. They took you in, raised you, gave you a mother and father's love. But they were _not_ your biological parents. When their usefulness ended, they met with an unfortunate tragedy."

"Did you really think it a coincidence," the Sensei asked, "that when your parents fell to their deaths, Bruce Wayne—a man who had similarly witnessed the murder of his own parents as a child—just happened to be in the audience to witness the tragedy being repeated? No…it was all arranged to—"

A rage suddenly consuming him, Dick let out a roar, and with an intense ferocity, launched an attack.

"_**Nooooo…!"**_

Dick brought down the remainder of Al Ghul's assassins, two and three at a time, but failed to see the Demon, Taser in hand, come up behind him and fire. As the world whited out, he saw the Sensei standing over him, laughing in triumph.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 5


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary**: _Get 'traught or get dead _[Redux…gotta love those Robin sayings.]

**Special Thanks: **A special thanks goes to my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 5]**

_Dick brought down the remainder of Al Ghul's assassins, two and three at a time, but failed to see the Demon, Taser in hand, come up behind him and fire. As the world whited out, he saw the Sensei standing over him, laughing in triumph._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 6]**

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[14 Years Ago…]**

_At Nanda Parbat, Bruce eagerly accepts Ra's Al Ghul's invitation to train in the Ways of the Warrior and of the Sword. For the next few months, his life becomes one of fasting, meditation, and martial arts training. Al Ghul's two assistants, the ancient Sensei and the harsh taskmaster, Dusan, take cruel liberties during their sparring sessions. More often than not, the training exercises end with Bruce sporting painful bruises, cracked ribs, cuts, and on one occasion, a concussion._

_Bruce also discovers an inner strength that he hadn't known he possessed. He refuses to quit or accept defeat. In the end, he is able to fight the Sensei to a draw; while Dusan, he is able to defeat at least two times out of three._

_He recalls Al Ghul's words that last night before it all changed._

"_When you first stepped foot here, you were like raw iron ore in need of the tempering fires of the forge. Your outer form has since been pounded and shaped, much like a smithy will work a higher grade of metal. But, your own mettle—your inner core, if you will—has been hardened to that of tempered steel. I wish you to stay and join us, Bruce. I believe that the Ways you have learned here will help you find the justice you seek."_

_However, it isn't justice that he's found at Nanda Parbat, but the most amazing woman he's ever met—a woman with whom he could easily spend the rest of his life. After that first morning, he seeks Talia out whenever he has a free moment. Their mutual attraction is like a force of nature, powerful and dangerous. He can't trust himself to be alone with her, let alone touch her; he, thus, deliberately maintains a respectful distance between them._

_His growing need keeps him awake at night, but he knows he's like a tightrope walker—one false step can be fatal. She takes the matter out of his hands by coming to him that night. Their lovemaking is as passionate and intense as he imagined it would be. Throughout the night, their desire burns so uncontrollably that he can only compare it to gunpowder and fire. Only when the first tendrils of light break on the distant horizon are their fires finally quenched—for the time being._

_Unfortunately, like those two volatile elements, their love blows up in their faces._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Present Day]**

Batman unconsciously pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. The memory of his first sight of the beautiful assassin—and their one night together—has always brought him mixed feelings. Most of the time, he's been able to keep his emotions under such tight control that he no longer reacts outwardly to her presence.

He recalled their most recent encounter in Cape Canaveral. He knew then that she'd blame him for her father's fall to his death, even though Ra's Al Ghul never stayed dead for long. As they held each other's eyes, he knew that the love they'd once shared, a love that she professed to still have, would suffer yet another severe blow. It didn't matter any more. He may have loved her once—no, he _**had**_ loved her once—but that was a long time ago.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[14 Years Ago…]**

_That next day, Bruce requests her hand in marriage. Al Ghul is delighted to welcome him into the family, not only as his new son-in-law, but also as his male heir. That night he hosts a celebratory dinner in honor of the couple's betrothal. He breaks open a bottle of Napoleon brandy, and after a toast to their future happiness, he reveals his grandiose plans to "save" the world from Man's shortcomings. More importantly, he explains his ideas to Bruce on the annihilation of Earth's excess population. Of those who are left, only the strongest will be allowed to reproduce, thus humanity will evolve into a better, stronger species._

_He talks at length of his dream of an ecologically balanced world in which Man protects and cultivates all animal and plant species. At first Bruce can't believe that Talia's father is serious, but soon realizes that he means every word. Of course, he rejects Al Ghul's nightmarish vision out of hand, asking Talia to accompany him back to Gotham City. _

_In the end Talia makes her choice and refuses to leave Nanda Parbat with him, electing to stay with her father and help him carry out his insane plans of world domination. Bruce has worked to forget that chapter in his life. It doesn't mean that her rejection no longer causes occasional pain when he thinks of what might have been. To this day Nanda Parbat remains as the physical reminder of the life they could have had together._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Present Day]**

Batman clenched his fists.

Ra's Al Ghul crossed a line when he directly attacked his family by taking Robin. Whatever the reasons, his actions shattered any remaining feelings Bruce may have still harbored for Talia.

Or so he tells himself.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A shadowy figure spied on the proceedings at the base of the shrine to the goddess, _Rama Kushna. _Flowing from the shrine were the mystic waters of the Fountain of Essence. It was believed that the waters had properties similar to the Lazarus Pit in that it could restore life; however, it only worked with those whose souls were believed to be pure.

As the afternoon sun slowly dipped behind the surrounding mountain range, the usually sealed doors of the temple to the goddess opened. Three columns of figures with shaved heads and yellow robes emerged. Walking in measured steps, they kept their heads bowed and their eyes downcast.

The hidden figure realized that the robed men were monks, probably members of the Kushnite Order. Apparently the theory that the order had long-since beendiscontinued, the monastery and temple abandoned had been wrong. The monks, for whatever reason, had simply chosen not to return to this physical plane until now.

It begged the question: Why return at a time so fraught with danger?

Dusan suddenly appeared alongside the monks, backed by several armed guards. He bellowed orders and gesticulated angrily at the impassive, yellow-robed figures. Frustrated that they weren't moving fast enough to suit him, he backhanded the first few, knocking them to the ground, and then proceeded to horsewhip any who didn't fall quickly into submission.

The monks hurriedly fell to their knees, assuming a supplicant's position, their foreheads on the ground, arms stretched before them.

Dusan continued to berate them, kicking out at random to emphasize his point.

"You pitiful dogs pray to your dead goddess, begging her to come to your aid. It will be a cold day in hell before she dares return and show her face here." Dusan turned and pointed at the shrine, which was looking down from its place of reverence at the top of the hand-hewn dais. "The only reason you still live is because of the graciousness of your new Master—Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's Head. But do not think that he will suffer your existence one minute past your usefulness to his cause." He glared at them, eyes crazed, spittle exploding from his lips as he screamed at them. "Now pick up the cleansing tools and prepare the site for the ceremony…if you wish to see the next sunrise."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Wordlessly, the monks picked up the bamboo rushes and rattan canes as instructed and began methodically sweeping the stone steps leading up to the shrine with the traditional cleansing tools. With each hand and arm movement, the monks silently prayed to their goddess for deliverance, humbly apologizing for submitting to the terrorists that had invaded their sacred ground.

The first time Ra's Al Ghul had visited their monastery some 400 hundred years ago, he had been welcomed as are all who come seeking the peace of _Rama Kushna_. Some time later, the monks and the sanctuary (as they were wont to do) were transported to the goddess's mythical plane of existence, which lay in a timeless place between the heavens and the earth.

As the time drew near for Nanda Parbat to return to this earthly plane, the goddess decreed her acolytes remain at her side. The sanctuary, however, was returned to its hidden place on Earth, for the world was in need of its peaceful refuge.

About 50 years ago, the most recent instance of the sanctuary's return to this plane, the Demon and his followers entered the abandoned sacred grounds—not for the pathway to peace, but for that of death and destruction. The violence and atrocities that they committed on the holy ground, their very presence in the holy sanctuary were a heresy and a desecration. Angered by the foolishness of the heretics, the goddess bade her acolytes to return and cleanse it.

On their return, the monks had been imprisoned within the goddess's holy temple, forced to submit to great indignities, especially from the one known as the White Ghost. He, along with the Sensei, was tainted with a black and foul soul, a result of having tasted the unclean waters of the Lazarus Pit once too often.

Ra's Al Ghul also stank of the Pit, his soul in danger of being consumed by its unholy waters. However, the true profanity was their daring to raise a Lazarus Pit here on this holy ground. Even now the monks could sense the growing anger of their loving, peaceful goddess.

On the other hand, the boy whom they had imprisoned was but an innocent. The monks had stood back and watched in horror the tortures he had suffered at the heretics' hands, angered at the violation of his pure, unsullied soul when he was twice subjected to the waters of the Lazarus Pit. And now they were being forced to participate in a further blasphemy.

Payment when exacted from these profane, evildoers would be terrible to behold.

In the meanwhile, the monks would bide their time for _Rama Kushna's_ return and act the part of submissive pawns. They would go through the motions of carefully preparing the site for the purifying ritual, which was designed to spiritually open the _Vessel_ and pave the way for the exchange of souls. They would wait for a sign from the goddess, and then they would act.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Glancing again at the setting sun, the shadowy figure slipped back into the secret hideaways that she'd discovered as a young child while exploring the mysterious grounds in and around the monastery. There was very little time left—a half-hour until sunset and another hour for moonrise, when _Rama Kushna_ would be aligned with the celestial dragon for their nightly battle against evil spirits.

At the height of the battle, _Pangu _and_ Nü Wa _would charge in and lend their considerable might to protect the innocent. However, she had little faith in the possibility of a divine rescue. To save the boy, she would have to take matters into her own hands and effect her own rescue. Her Beloved was undoubtedly on the way already, but she wouldn't risk the life of their son.

Talia had to get Richard away long before moonrise.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Alpha team trudged across the rugged, mountainous terrain. The heroes' usually fluid movements were curtailed by the icy conditions and poor visibility. The snow had fallen relentlessly since they'd landed, the torrential winds transforming the icy particles into tiny bladed weapons.

Arriving at the Bridge of All Souls, Batman signaled a halt, touching a spot on his mask that activated his enhanced optics. The blizzard hadn't let up since they'd arrived almost 45 minutes ago. It made reaching their objective more of a challenge, but they were still keeping to their timetable.

Alpha team had the point—scouting and forward security. Beta team was 20 meters to their rear and slightly covering their flanks, providing rear guard. They would move up once Alpha had eliminated the night watch.

Batman timed the guards' patrol route and after a few minutes of silent observation, he nodded at Miss Martian and Artemis. The two teen heroines crossed the suspension bridge, taking up positions at the base of the massive gate on the other side.

They were momentarily shocked that once they arrived at the other side of the deep river gorge, the blizzard completely disappeared. Batman had briefed them on the weather phenomenon inside Nanda Parbat, but until they actually saw it, they hadn't really known what to expect.

They waited silently for the two guards to make their regular pass along the massive gate. As soon as the unsuspecting men came near, the heroines lying in wait attacked. Miss Martian used her psychic powers to levitate and slam him against the one of stone pillars that held up the gate. Artemis fired an arrow that released knockout gas, thus dispatching the other.

The girls quickly zip-tied the guards' wrists and ankles, securing them behind their backs, and gagged them. Miss Martian sent a mental "_All clear_." Batman and Zatara materialized from the dark, startling the two girls.

_Moonrise is an hour away_. Batman looked grim as he spoke through the team's mental link. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this mode of communication, but the young heroes were used to it, so he accepted it. _Beta team, move up_.

The teams took a moment to remove the cold-weather gear. It was comprised of white camouflage to blend in with the blizzard conditions they encountered on their trek to the Kushnite monastery. Under the winter gear, the teams were dressed in full stealth mode.

Once they stowed their gear away, Alpha team moved out at Batman's signal to begin a sweep of their designated areas. Beta team would set up bridgehead security, ensuring their only escape route remained available. They would also wire the bridge to explode once they were all safely across.

_Miss Martian…anything?_ Batman slipped silently among the shadows as he mind-spoke.

_Nothing yet…_ M'Gann's regret came through clearly over the link.

Batman nodded.

_Giovanni, Artemis…you know what to do_.

Zatara acknowledged. Whispering a few words, he levitated himself and Artemis, transporting them to roof that overlooked the compound below. They easily spotted the guards stationed at each of the roof's compass points. Hovering silently above them, Zatara again murmured a spell, which immediately put the men to sleep. An additional spell, and the men were bound and gagged.

Artemis just stared. She was supposed to be acting as Zatara's security while the powerful mage cast out location spells in an attempt to find Robin. About to suggest that she be allowed to rejoin the others since it was obvious that Zatara had everything well in hand, Artemis closed her mouth as she saw the sorcerer sit cross-legged in midair in a trance.

_Okay…I guess he does need me here_. She shrugged and took up an alert stance, arrow nocked and ready.

Back on the ground, Batman and Miss Martian had already moved closer to the main building. Staying close to the shadowy recesses along the old stone monastery, Batman held up a clenched fist as he spotted a solitary guard walking his post along the building's outer perimeter. The heroes silently ducked behind the decorative shrubbery that bordered Al Ghul's prized gardens. Keeping a close watch on the guard as he passed by, Batman silently counted to ten and then gave her the go-ahead sign.

M'Gann concentrated and then transformed herself into the mirror image of Dusan, based on one of the holovids that Batman had shown during the mission briefing. Because she found it difficult to assume male forms, she'd been forced to practice for a couple of hours before she was able to get it right. She wasn't completely comfortable with the results, but decided that it would do fine in the dark.

Dematerializing, she flew toward the solitary guard and rematerialized a few feet behind him, staying in the shadows. Getting into character, she assumed an angry sneer and called out.

"You! Guard!" She stood, arms akimbo, legs shoulder width apart.

The lone guard whirled around, assuming a defensive stance. When he saw "Dusan" standing there, he hastily bowed.

"Taskmaster Dusan," he greeted. "What is your will?"

"The young prisoner must be moved immediately. Your assistance is required." _Dusan's_ eyes started to glow green. A similar green glow was reflected in the guard's eyes, which soon became completely blank. Miss Martian read his open mind, saw what he saw: the endless tunnels that ran underneath he monastery and exited at the base of the holy shrine to _Rama Kushna_. Her eyes narrowed in anger when she saw what they had planned for Robin.

"You are very tired," she suggested.

The guard yawned mightily at Miss Martian's words.

"Lie down over there and take a nap." As she spoke, M'Gann pointed to a darkened recess in the wall.

"As you will, Taskmaster," the guard mumbled in reply, nodding groggily. His eyes half-closed, he did as commanded and stumbled toward the niche indicated and abruptly curled up in a deep sleep.

She turned to Batman. "We have to hurry. It's almost moonrise!"

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Robin groaned as consciousness slowly returned. _Definitely not feeling the 'aster... _He tried to move but discovered shackles on his wrists and ankles. He looked around at his newest accommodations: a dank and dark dungeon. If the situation weren't so serious, he'd laugh at the utter cliché-ness.

_Guess I tried escaping once too often_, he thought, _and they're making sure I stick around for the grand finale._

He thought about what Al Ghul and the Sensei had said about his mom and dad. He couldn't believe it…wouldn't believe it. There was just no way that he was related to either of those monsters!

But, what if their claims were true? Then that meant Bruce was his real father. He sat back and considered the implications of the revelation. Admittedly, he cared deeply for Bruce. The man had given him a home when he lost everything and everyone that meant anything to him. He trained him, mentored him, helped him through the hard times so that now he was able to laugh and enjoy life again.

Bruce had been a father to him in every way but one—biologically. Now, he was told that that wasn't the case. But if Bruce were his real father, then why hadn't he told him? Was it possible that the World's Greatest Detective didn't realize what was right under his own nose?

_Not likely_. Dick scoffed at the idea. _No…if Bruce doesn't know or suspect that I'm his son, then it can't be true_.

Almost as soon as the denial established a firm foothold in his psyche, Dick perversely started poking holes in it. He recalled the many times friends and strangers commented on the uncanny resemblance between Bruce and him. They each had the same untamed black hair that needed extra gel to stay neatly groomed for school and work.

They shared a similar fair complexion that tanned easily in the sun. Much to Dick's dismay, the bridge of his nose tended to freckle with too much exposure to the sun. And, now that he thought of it, Alfred said once a couple years ago, "Master Bruce used to suffer from the same affliction when he was about your age, Master Richard."

But the most unique feature they shared was the unusual shade of dark blue eyes, a color Dick hadn't had in common with his own parents, a color that always seemed to receive complimentary comments.

John Grayson had had gray eyes, while Mary's blue eyes had been more the color of an April sky. To the best of Dick's knowledge, no one on either the Grayson or Loyd side of his family had the same dark blue eyes as he.

In addition to Bruce, Dick had seen the same shade of blue in only one other place—the wedding portrait of Martha Wayne that hung over the mantel in Bruce's study. Bruce had his mom's eyes.

_And if he's my real dad…then I do, too._

Dick didn't know what to think. Each new revelation only brought more questions. Had Bruce known? Is that why he took him so quickly following his parents' deaths? Only according to Al Ghul they weren't really his parents. And if that were true…then how could they have lied to him? How could Bruce?

Dick felt so confused. Unbidden, tears fell from the corner of his eyes. Because of the shackles, he couldn't do much about it. He was too old to cry, he silently chastised himself. He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and forced himself to settle down and focus. Now wasn't the time to obsess over something that he couldn't do anything about.

Besides, if there were anyone here who would be a likelier liar, it wouldn't be Bruce or his parents; it would be Ra's Al Ghul and the old Sensei.

Dick had to concentrate on escaping. When the guards came for him, he'd have to remain aware of everything around him and look for any opportunities that he could exploit.

Batman would come. He knew that within the depths of his soul. He was probably on his way already. Dick had to hang on until then. Whatever happened…_Robin_ had to be ready.

_Get 'traught or get dead!_ He reminded himself.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 6


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary**: _There are very powerful arcane forces within this place_, Zatara explained, _and many possible outcomes…_

**Special Thanks:** To my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 6]**

_Dick had to concentrate on escaping. When the guards came for him, he'd have to remain aware of everything around him and look for any opportunities that he could exploit._

_Batman would come. He knew that within the depths of his soul. He was probably on his way already. Dick had to hang on until then. Whatever happened…Robin had to be ready._

_Get 'traught or get dead! He reminded himself._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 7]**

_BC…Zatara, there's been a change in plans_, Batman reported. _Miss Martian…? _

M'Gann rapidly sent the teams the mental images that she'd taken from the guard, inundating them with pictures of underground tunnels, monks sweeping the steps leading up to the Kushnite shrine, and moonrise. The most frightening mental pictures were of Robin rising from the Lazarus Pit, not once but twice.

_Batman, _M'Gann whispered in his mind, _I also saw this…_

It seemed as if Batman were suddenly inside a virtual reality, an outsider looking in…

_He sees Robin being pulled out from under the collapsed ceiling—bleeding, battered…dead._

Before Batman could respond, the scene shifted and he found himself on a rooftop…

_He watches as Robin singlehandedly fights against an army of ninjas in hand-to-hand battle, niftily managing to escape their clutches, only to be shot in the chest—by Ubu...with Ra's Al Ghul standing right next to him._

Batman felt his own chest constrict at the sight of his young partner—no, his son—being killed before his eyes. Whatever happened tonight, he would make sure that Al Ghul never laid a hand on Dick or anyone else again!

_Miss Martian, I require a private link with Batman,_ Zatara requested.

Miss Martian looked inquiringly at Batman who gave her an affirmative nod. She concentrated briefly, her eyes glowing and said, _Go ahead._

Batman noticed that the mental link had become very quiet. _Zatara?_

_My friend…there is something you must see._

Batman suddenly clutched his head as he was assaulted by new images, almost too rapid to make sense of…

_He finds himself at the base of the Rama Kushna shrine. The full moon hangs red and bloated just above the treetops. He sees Dick splayed out on the altar before the shrine, struggling against his restraints. _

_Ra's Al Ghul, Taskmaster Dusan, the Sensei, and Talia stand next to the altar at the four compass points: Al Ghul at the head of the altar, facing east. Dusan at the foot, facing west. The Sensei stands at the center, facing north, while Talia is being held forcibly in place on the opposite side, facing south. _

_The Sensei's eyes glow with an inner fire…a burning madness. He speaks, but his words are lost amidst the sounds of screaming._

_Talia is screaming at her father, fighting uselessly against Ubu's iron grip. At a gesture from Al Ghul, Ubu clamps his massive hand over Talia's mouth, effectively silencing her. Talia continues to struggle, her eyes pleading._

"_Daughter, you more than others know of the dichotomy that the first requisite of immortality is death. Young Richard…you should not fear what lies before you; instead, be proud that as the chosen Vessel 'thy eternal summer shall not fade'—"_

_Dick actually rolls his eyes. "Oh, brother! **Again** with the Shakespeare quotes! What is it with super-villains and—" He isn't given the chance to finish because Dusan gags him. Dick simply glares at his captors._

_In the sudden quiet, the Sensei's words ring out, "The law of sacrifice is uniform throughout the world. To be effective, it demands the sacrifice of the bravest and the most spotless…"_

_Batman recognizes Mahatma Gandhi's words just as a knife blade flashes in the moonlight—!_

As his vision cleared, Batman found himself on his knees with no idea how or when he'd ended up there. Steeling his chaotic emotions, he rose to his full height, projecting the terrifying image of the Bat bent on vengeance.

_There are very powerful arcane forces within this place_, Zatara explained, _and many possible outcomes. This vision is a warning of one such outcome._

Batman remained still for a long moment, haunted by what he'd seen. Finally, he sent out a single-word acknowledgement.

_Understood_.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The door to his dungeon cell creaked open. Startled, Dick watched as a dark, lithe figure flitted in quickly, closing the door behind her. She turned, a finger to her lips.

"Talia?" His voice croaked from disuse.

She hurried to his side and quickly picked the locks securing him. Dick's arms fell down his sides, stiff and sore from having been held in the same position for the better part of the day. He groaned as he massaged his next-to-useless limbs, trying to get the blood flowing again. She began rubbing his arms and legs in order to help him along.

"We must go now," she hissed. "Can you walk?"

"…Think so," he said hoarsely. She helped him to his feet, but he insisted he could walk unassisted. "I can do it," he grumbled.

"Then let us hurry." As she turned away, Talia rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. _Just like Bruce_.

As Dick stepped out the door, he saw the guards lying unconscious on the floor. Talia led him into a side tunnel, which they followed for a few hundred yards. As he trailed behind her, Dick noticed that Talia was armed with twin broadswords, cross-sheathed on her back and a pair of _nunchakus_ in a thigh holster. In all, Talia cut quite a formidable, dangerous presence, a complete opposite to his mom.

After several minutes of running through a series of endless tunnels, they finally arrived at the end of the line, another heavy iron door.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"I'm getting you away from here," Talia replied as she flipped up a cover on the side of the door, revealing a scanner and digital pad. She placed her hand on the scanner and punched in her security code. "There's not much time."

"But why…? Why should you help me?" Dick demanded. "Unless…unless what they're saying is true…that you're really my—"

Talia hurriedly pushed the door in, effectively cutting off his question.

"This way," she said, leading him through yet another labyrinthine network of dark tunnels, her flashlight barely piercing the gloom. Several more minutes of running followed before they came to yet another heavy door. Talia again placed her palm on the hand-scanner and punched in her security code. The red light turned green, and they heard a distinctive click indicating the door was unlocked.

No sooner had they walked through the door, than an army of ninjas suddenly swarmed them. The Sensei and Ra's Al Ghul walked up to them.

"I am quite disappointed in you, daughter. This betrayal cannot go unpunished."

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

_Artemis, Zatara…move up,_ Batman ordered. _Take up your forward positions. _

_On our way, _Artemis replied. Zatara manipulated the air molecules around them and transported them to the sloped temple roof. From there they had a clear view of the Kushnite shrine and the healing waters of the Fountain of Essence.

_Beta team, be ready to move up. Make sure you keep the gate open. _

_Roger, B. _Black Canary's voice was a soothing balm. She rarely lost her cool under fire, generally dispatching her opponents with a quiet efficiency that was as calm as it was deadly.

_Ask him if I can scout the perimeter at super-speed_, Kid Flash said eagerly.

_Kid…he can hear you,_ Aqualad reminded him.

_Yeah, Kid Idiot…everybody can hear you!_ Artemis added.

_I'm sorry…it's just so hard to sit still, y'know?_ Kid Flash whined. _Too much adrenaline._

_Wally, stay focused!_ Black Canary ordered. _Or I may have a long conversation with your Aunt Iris._

Eyes wide, Kid Flash gulped. _Focus…gotta stay focused. I can do that._

"If you say so,"Superboy muttered. M'Gann giggled, but quickly suppressed it.

Batman didn't bother articulating his annoyance. The young heroes were getting better with each mission, but they were still so _young_. Five years ago he never would have endured their immaturity. But a certain gifted acrobat, whose optimism and zest for life gave him something else to live for besides his relentless mission, also taught him the patience and understanding that come with raising a child.

Batman might have been Robin's mentor, but Dick was most assuredly Bruce Wayne's teacher. He taught him how to be a father, and in the process, showed him how to love again. The Dynamic Duo thus inspired other heroes to mentor a junior partner, laying the foundation for the next generation of heroes.

Giving his approval for the covert team of junior heroes, training them and assigning them JL sanctioned missions had been the next logical step. It had also offered Dick a chance for real friends with common interests, almost a chance at a normal life—or, at least, what passed for normal in the life of the junior superhero.

And now, he was entrusting them with the single most important mission since their inception. Recalling the chilling image of Dick lying on a sacrificial altar, he prayed his trust wasn't misplaced.

_Heads up, people,_ Artemis called. _We have activity at the base of the shrine._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Dick and Talia immediately sprang into action, attacking with the ferocity of cornered animals. Talia grabbed the _nunchakus_ from her thigh holster and tossed them toward Dick, who caught them easily. Taking a moment to familiarize himself with their balance, he quickly went through a kata that combined the martial arts weapons with elements of _savate_.

When two ninjas got too close, Dick dispatched them quickly. He struck the first with roundhouse kick to the chin, effectively knocking him out, while simultaneously whirling the _nunchakus_ and taking out the second with a few well-placed hits to the temple and back of the head.

Not taking the time to celebrate, he assumed a back-to-back stance with Talia, covering her six o'clock. The pair fought in synch as if they'd been training together for years. Talia whipped out the Chinese broadswords, and quickly proved she knew how to use them. What's more, she didn't hold back, using deadly force with impunity. Before long, several ninjas lay at the feet of the two besieged combatants, either unconscious or dead.

However, despite their best efforts, there were just too many assassins against them. They were soon subdued and quickly disarmed. Dick was restrained by two grim-faced ninjas who held his arms unnecessarily tightly behind his back. Seeing the high number of ninjas lying all around, Dick smirked up at them, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction. They rewarded his insolence by twisting his arms just shy of dislocation. Dick hissed in pain, but refused to cry out, glaring his defiance.

To his left he saw that Ubu, the giant who'd shot him, was similarly restraining Talia. From her pained grimace, it was obvious that her arms were also being twisted agonizingly behind her back.

"Father…you know this is foolish. The ritual for the soul exchange will never work!" Despite her desperation, she somehow managed to sound reasonable.

"On the contrary, Talia," Al Ghul spoke smugly, "the ritual will most certainly work." He studied Dick for a moment. "The _Vessel_ will serve his purpose exactly as intended."

_Or not!_ Dick thought defiantly as he slipped out of his captors' hold and launched himself at the Demon. He managed to get a roundhouse kick to the abdomen, and as Al Ghul bent over to protect his exposed middle, Dick quickly followed up with a flying leap, spin and kick to the temple. Or, at least, that had been his intent, but he never made contact.

In a rage, Dusan had hurried to his Master's aid, and reaching Dick, knocked him down from behind. The taskmaster didn't stop there; he kicked the downed boy with great relish in the chest and abdominal areas. As Dick curled in on himself for protection, Dusan kicked him on the back of the head, sending him into oblivion.

In the meantime, as Dick unexpectedly attacked the Master, Ubu was momentarily distracted and loosened the vice-like hold he had on Talia. Not one to let such an opportunity pass, Talia slammed her elbow into Ubu's stomach, catching him off guard. She spun and kicked out, connecting with his iron jaw.

The kick that would have killed or least incapacitated an ordinary man didn't even faze the giant. Instead, the man mountain proved that size did indeed matter.

Ubu's counterattack was lightning swift and five times as painful. Not holding back despite his opponent being his young Mistress, whom he had protected since her birth, Ubu's massive fist struck her along the side of the head, and Talia went down as if she'd been shot.

Somehow the Daughter of the Demon held onto her senses. On hands and knees, she pleaded in great desperation. "Sensei, listen to me…This is all a lie! Richard is _not_ my son! You must believe me. Father is only doing this to—!"

"Enough!" Al Ghul made a cutting motion with his hand. "It is almost time. We must prepare for the ritual." He indicated to Dusan and Ubu to bring Dick and Talia along.

"Sensei! You must listen!" Talia begged. "Father is lying to you. The ritual requires the shedding of blood from both the Vessel and the Soul Walker. Don't you see…he means your death! You've become too powerful. Richard isn't my son…the ritual won't work. The Fountain of Essence will refuse to exchange your soul for his."

"Daughter, you disappoint me," Al Ghul chastised. "I can forgive a mother's desperation in attempting to help her son escape his Fate. I cannot forgive a disobedient daughter, who lies about me and accuses me of treachery against my own father." He snapped his fingers. Dusan threw Dick over his shoulder, while Ubu dragged Talia to her feet.

"Forgive me, Mistress." He bowed and then again restrained her arms behind her back. He then guided her heavy-handedly down the tunnel. Talia glared at him, promising retribution in some unforeseeable future.

"I was simply trying to help a poor, innocent boy who does not deserve what you plan to do," she insisted, addressing her father. "He has already suffered so much in his young life. Please, Father…I beg you."

By now, the procession had reached a heavy metal door at the end of the tunnel. Al Ghul quickly had his palm scanned and punched in his security code. As soon as the door opened, he signaled Dusan who passed his unconscious passenger to another.

The White Ghost bowed to his master and led the Demon's own elite guards through the heavy door first in order to run a security sweep of the area around the shrine.

As they waited, Al Ghul gave Talia one more disappointed look, which soon grew in intensity. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small, oblong box.

Talia stared at it, eyes wide. She forgot how to breathe. The world narrowed down to just her, her father, and the box in his hand. With a look of smug triumph, Al Ghul opened the case. Lying inside, on a bed of dark blue velvet was an exquisite single strand of pearls. She immediately recognized the priceless necklace, of course.

Father and daughter held each other's eyes. No words were needed. With just one move, Ra's Al Ghul had shown again why he was the Grand Master and Talia and Dick but mere pawns in his great game—Checkmate!

Dusan signaled the all clear, and they all walked out onto the base of the shrine.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 7


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary**: "Why?" he asked her. "Why Dick?"

**Special Thanks:** To my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 7]**

_Father and daughter held each other's eyes. No words were needed. With just one move, Ra's Al Ghul had shown again why he was the Grand Master and Talia and Dick but mere pawns in his great game—Checkmate!_

_Dusan signaled the all clear, and they all walked out onto the base of the shrine._

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 8]**

_Package spotted_, Artemis reported as soon as she saw Robin. She adjusted the powerful Starlite glasses. _Target Dusan is carrying him over his right shoulder. Package appears unconscious. Targets Ra's Al Ghul, Sensei, and Talia Al Ghul also spotted. Target Talia Al Ghul appears to be a prisoner. They are making their way up the stone steps to the Rama Kushna shrine._

_Batman, _Zatara broke in. _The arcane forces I mentioned earlier are building in strength. And moonrise is less than five minutes away. I do not like this. Whatever we are going to do…we must do it soon_.

_Miss Martian and I are in position, _Batman reported, _directly across from you on the monastery roof._

Artemis and Zatara looked in their direction and M'Gann gave a short wave.

_Artemis, Kid Flash…on my signal, I'll need a distraction. Zatara…you know what to do. Miss Martian, you're with me. Remember…once you have the package, we will break off and egress. Zatara, Artemis…you'll cover our rear until we reach the bridge. BC…once we're all across, you and your team will blow it._

Several "Roger(s)" rang across the mental links. They were all ready and eager to recover their missing teammate.

Maybe there was hope for them yet.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

As soon as the full moon appeared over the rooftops, Batman unhooked a miniature projectile weapon from his utility belt. The moon's blood red, bloated face shone down on the gathered masses at the base of the shrine. The place was deathly quiet except for a lone, chanting voice.

Dick was strapped down to the altar, except that unlike the vision Batman had seen, the boy wasn't conscious and fighting his restraints. Zatara had said the vision was only a possible outcome. Did this mean that the outcome was already changing? The others were standing around the altar in the same places as in the vision. And like what he'd seen, Talia was struggling uselessly against Ubu, whose massive hands held her almost immobile. It was time.

_**Now! **_

At Batman's signal several things happened at once. He fired his silent projectile weapon five times, aiming at different locations around the shrine. The bat-shaped projectiles adhered themselves to the surfaces with a water-resistant epoxy. Red LEDs blinked a steady countdown, a warning to anyone who might wander too near. Returning the weapon to its place on his utility belt, Batman spread his cape out and jumped…

As Batman glided down to the crowd below, Artemis fired a mixture of different arrows—explosive, gas, and flash-bangs—all on delayed fuses. She nocked four additional arrows, ready for the next signal.

Zatara concentrated his spell on the Sensei. The old man was the one chanting, and except for Ra's Al Ghul, exuded the most arcane power.

"_Gag dna niartser eht nem! Esaeler eht s'yob sdnob!" _

A gag materialized around the Sensei's mouth, effectively silencing him. At the same time, the old Sensei, Dusan, and Al Ghul were tied up, while Dick's restraints fell off. As the men began struggling against their bonds, the timed explosions and flash-bangs went off, resulting in chaos and general confusion.

Several of the men who were close to the devices staggered around, temporarily blinded and deafened. The rest of the crowd took up defensive stances, unsure from where the attacks were coming. To add to their bewilderment they were then flung haphazardly by an unknown cyclone tearing through their ranks…

Kid Flash had been waiting impatiently for the sounds of the first explosives and flash-bangs before he raced off. He was supposed to help provide a distraction. Grinning madly, he zipped around the crowd, his wake knocking the ninjas left and right…

Talia struck out at the same time a black object hit Ubu on the temple. An elbow to the nose was followed up with a reverse kick to the knee. The giant went down with barely a struggle, and Talia gave a feral grin as she recognized the batarang lying next to Ubu's head on the ground.

The next instant a black shadow swooped in, dark cape billowing behind him. He was quickly followed by a smaller, female shaped shadow that hovered above the fray.

Batman and Talia were soon swarmed from all directions. And just as she'd done earlier with Dick, Talia and Batman also took up back-to-back fighting stances. They soon found themselves fighting against well-trained, overwhelming odds.

It was a bittersweet moment for Talia, who was reminded of how they used to spar together against her father's ninjas years ago.

From above them all, Zatara murmured a few words and a mist suddenly began rolling in, blocking out the moonlight. Artemis assisted by firing off smoke arrows, which further obscured the night. A few well-placed arrows with knockout gas took care of several more of the assassins.

Kid Flash continued creating as much alarm and mischief as he could, punching the enemy on the run. Miss Martian, floating above the altar, gestured with her arms and several men were abruptly thrown up and slammed against the monastery walls. Kid Flash in the meantime created a mini cyclone with his arms, tossing several more head over heels and dropping them with enough force to crack their skulls.

_Miss Martian! Secure the package!_ Batman ordered as he fought off three at the same time. He was working to keep them away from Dick who was still unconscious. _Head for the bridge…now!_

"Beloved! Take Richard. I shall hold them off," Talia called. As the Daughter of the Demon spoke, Miss Martian landed next to the altar and bent over to pick up Dick. As luck would have it, Dusan had cut through his bonds and jumped up, striking the Manhunter's niece with a karate chop to the neck. She dropped without a sound. The White Ghost quickly released Ra's Al Ghul and the Sensei from their bonds.

Batman and Talia were too busy fighting off six and five opponents at the same time to reach Dick. They were effectively cut off from reaching the unconscious boy. Batman called out in the mind link. _Beta team, move up!_

From the roof Artemis fired off an arrow, trailing a nylon cable behind it. She secured the end on her side when the arrow imbedded itself on a wall at the outer perimeter of the crowd. Placing her bow on the heavy cable, she pushed off the temple roof and slid unseen over the heads of the ninjas below, letting go as she neared the altar. Landing hard, she rolled and came up instantly, facing off against two of the enemy fighters…

"Traitor!" Dusan cried, leaping at Talia. "_**I**_ am my Master's true and loyal servant! I shall not allow you to thwart his plans!"

Talia didn't bother replying in words; she let her actions speak for her. Executing a back flip, she picked up a fallen sword and met his attack. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Batman and her father fighting hand-to-hand. A brief flash caught her eye—a knife plunging into the heart of the still form on the altar…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Sound returned first…angry shouts, frightened screams, explosions…

Feeling soon followed…a sharp, knife-like pain along the ribs, an unceasing throbbing from his head, a dull ache from the stomach area…He hurt all over…

Taste…blood in his mouth (yuck!)…

Smell…smoke from fires, the coppery smell of blood…

Slowly, he moved his fingers, hands—testing for any breaks…

Swallowing against the pain, he blinked his eyes, attempting to open them. They were tearing from the pain, obscured by blood that trickled from several cuts along his face and scalp. At last, his vision cleared. There were people fighting all around him. His heart leapt when he spotted Batman's black cape and cowl, whipping behind him as his mentor fought a vicious hand-to-hand battle.

About to call out, a sudden flash immediately above him caught his eye. The last thing Dick saw was the Sensei's look of mad triumph as he stabbed down with the ceremonial knife—!

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

"_Sensei! No!" _Talia cried.

At her cry, Batman turned and froze, mesmerized by the red petals spreading out from Dick's chest. The world seemed to slow to a stop on its axis. All around him, men engaged in deadly combat against young, super-powered teens. The young heroes fought with courage and determination, their only goal to rescue their fallen comrade. But he didn't see or hear any of it. He was apart from it, an outsider.

Batman slowly broke away from his opponent, leaving himself uncharacteristically open to a treacherous attack. He had eyes only for the small figure lying on the sacrificial altar, chest pumping out his life's blood.

"It is done! Blood for blood!" The eyes of the ancient Sensei glowed with madness as he held up the bloody knife. "O happy dagger…this is thy sheath—!" With those words, he plunged the knife into his own heart. Stiffening, the light went out from his eyes, and he fell forward onto Dick's still warm body.

As the Sensei collapsed, Al Ghul held up his hands, stopping his men from further fighting. "It is done," he said quietly, ironically repeating the Sensei's words. "The ancient Sensei is dead."

The ground around the altar unexpectedly shifted—a mild earthquake. Simultaneously, the temple doors burst open, releasing dozens of Kushnite monks who ran out screaming, waving _bō_ staffs and whatever weapons they happened to stumble across. The full moon broke through the magical mist that had hidden it earlier. No longer blood red, the moon shone silver on the two inert forms lying on the altar.

The monks swarmed around them in seemingly endless waves, and soon overwhelmed all the League of Assassins who were still standing. However, as all this was happening, a small group stood gathered, oblivious to the violence around them. All were focused on the figure of the Dark Knight who had hunched over, and picked up the small, unnaturally still boy in his arms.

As if his legs could no longer support him, Batman sank to down to his knees, holding his son in silent grief.

As the monks disarmed and rounded up Al Ghul's assassins, the little tableau being played out at the foot of the _Rama Kushna_ shrine finally took center stage.

Batman held Dick in his arms, his cape covering the boy protectively. He gently ran a lone finger down the boy's cheek, marveling at how innocent he looked. Had he told Dick he loved him recently? How proud he was of him? He thought of the adoption papers lying in his desk drawer. Why hadn't he finalized them before this?

He became lost in memories of his young partner…and son.

"Beloved…" Talia whispered in his ear, gently touching her cheek to his. She reached out her hand and tenderly ran her fingers through Dick's hair. A single tear fell unbidden from the corner of her eye. It was soon followed by another…and another.

"Why?" he asked her. "Why Dick?" _Why my son _went unsaid.

"The ritual must be completed!" Dusan cried. "Otherwise…the Sensei died for nothing!"

"What ritual?" Batman asked woodenly.

"It doesn't matter," Al Ghul spoke up. "The ritual will not be completed." He glared at Dusan. "It was never my intention to allow the old Sensei to exchange souls with that of my grandson."

"What?" Dusan cried, outraged.

"Grandson?" Batman looked confused.

"Yes…Richard is my grandson, and my one true heir. He has proven himself worthy time and again of being my successor. Unfortunately, I had to make the Sensei believe that I would actually finish the Exchange of Souls once he was gone. I'm afraid that he had been gaining too much power for me to allow that to happen. Should he have possessed the body of such a young, vibrant boy as Richard, there is no telling how many more centuries he'd have been around to be a thorn on my side—perhaps even defeat me." Al Ghul looked regretfully at the dead boy. "No…Sensei had to die, and unfortunately this was the only way."

"But that doesn't mean that _**Richard**_ has to die, Father," Talia cried. "Please…the Pit!"

"**_No!"_ **

Everyone turned to Batman shocked that he would say that.

"No…Dick wouldn't want that. I saw what you did to him. Immersing him not once, but twice in your Lazarus Pit! I saw the madness. No…I won't make him go through that evil cauldron a third time. As much as I love—" He choked over whatever words he was about to say. "As much as I want—" He shook his head. "I can't—"

"Then perhaps there is another solution."

Startled, everyone searched for the source of the new, gentle voice—a woman's voice. A few surprised gasps were heard throughout the grounds as a soft glow began to encompass the Kushnite shrine. As the glow grew brighter, the waters of the Fountain of Essence began to roil wildly, then to overflow, and finally to run free.

"The Fountain of Essence restores life to those whose souls are pure," the woman explained, her musical voice a soothing balm. "Those whose souls have been corrupted are purified by its waters."

At first the water began to flow as barely a trickle, but it soon became a torrent. Those standing in its path, who did not leap quickly out of its way, cried out in agony as they collapsed in place. The flesh where they'd been touched by the holy waters decaying down to the bone—in some cases the victim disintegrating entirely.

"What's happening?"

"My legs! My legs!"

"My eyes! I cannot see!"

Men were writhing on the ground, missing limbs, or suffering from other more horrible injuries. Many lay dead.

"The purification process can be quite painful…and often deadly." _Rama Kushna_ stood in place of her shrine, shining before them in all her ethereal glory. Her magnificent light spread out, alighting on the two figures, hunched over on the ground. As Batman and Dick, still carefully cradled in his arms, were illuminated by the holy light, the first fingers of the purifying waters reached them.

"Lay the child in my cleansing waters, White Knight, and let his innocent soul be healed."

By now the soothing waters were flowing in and around Batman, drenching his legs where he knelt, soon coming up to his waist. He didn't seem affected by the waters in any way, other than been wet—and perhaps a pleasant warmth that seemed to be spreading through him. Batman wasn't sure what to believe, but he gently lay Dick down on the flowing waters from the Fountain of Essence.

Scooping up a handful, Batman washed Dick's face, wiping off the gore that marred it. Not realizing that he was holding his breath, Batman flinched in surprise when he saw Dick's chest begin to rise and fall. Excited, he held his cheek up to Dick's face and felt his breath as the boy exhaled. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to Dick's, a display of affection that he'd only ever done in the privacy of Wayne Manor.

Unable to hold back, he again gathered the boy in his arms and held him close to his heart. As he did, he felt a comforting warmth spread from Dick to himself, a feeling of peace and contentment fulfilling him. He looked up at the goddess.

"Thank you."

_Rama Kushna_ smiled a blessing down at them, her light slowly fading out. The shrine stood as before.

All was quiet.

One of the monks stepped forward and bowed.

"We respectfully insist that all of you leave now. You have brought violence and evil to Nanda Parbat. _Rama Kushna_ and her sacred siblings, _Pangu _and_ Nü Wa, _are angry that you have profaned the holy sanctuary."

As if to emphasize the monk's words, the ground was again shaken by another temblor much stronger than the previous one.

"I believe that was _Nü Wa _letting us know how he feels. You do not wish to have _Pangu _also give you a further illustration."

_Batman, I fear that the magical forces here are growing more powerful with each moment that passes, _Zatara broke in._ We must do as he says…now! _With these words, Zatara brought up his wand, murmured a few words, and levitated the YJ team. _"Ria mroftalp, ylf su tuo!" _The very air beneath them solidified into a platform wide enough to transport them all.

No sooner had Zatara's spell succeeded in lifting the team from any immediate danger than a much stronger earth tremor shook the holy sanctuary. This was followed by several more, which resulted in a number of buildings collapsing on the panicking crowds. The ground soon opened up, its ugly gaping maw swallowing several of Al Ghul's men.

Talia looked up as the team flew overhead and screamed when a wall began falling on her and her father. "Beloved!"

Batman turned in time to see her danger. Before he could take action to help the woman he'd once loved, Miss Martian levitated off the air platform and held out her hands, stopping the wall from collapsing on top of them. She didn't care about saving Al Ghul, but she had seen Talia Al Ghul fight for Robin. M'Gann had also mind-touched her and discovered something that should have remained a secret.

She held back the wall until both Talia and her father were safely away. After that she hurried after her teammates.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Dusan moved his hand from the wound on his side where a monk had skewered him quite messily. He was certain that the monk had sliced through his large intestine. He laughed raggedly, amused at the situation.

All he'd ever wanted was his father's love and respect. All Dusan ever received was his Master's contempt—for having been born an albino, a _freak_ of nature. Rejected at birth, Dusan was tolerated as a bodyguard, a soldier, and obsequious servant.

But the old Sensei had promised him a place at his side—as a trusted aide and as his grandson. Once the Exchange of Souls had been completed, Dusan would have taken his rightful place alongside that of his grandfather. However, both his father and sister had betrayed the Sensei, kept him from gaining a new, healthy _Vessel_ capable of serving him for at least another two to four hundred years.

But now, the old Sensei was dead, and he, Taskmaster Dusan—known as the White Ghost—was reduced to crawling on his belly. He had called out to his Master for help, but the Demon…his father…had turned his back to him. Instead, his father had supported Talia as they made their way across the shaky ground.

"That was the most unkindest cut of all," he rasped.

Which is why Dusan had found his own situation so amusing. His father would rather help Talia, whose treachery time and again on behalf of the detective had caused him no end of trouble, than Dusan, whose loyalty was unquestioned. Worse, the Master claimed _Ibn al Xu'ffasch_, the Son of the Bat—his one great enemy—as his true heir. Again, ignoring the numerous times this treacherous boy had gone against him and thwarted his Great Game. The last time had resulted in his falling to his death from a great height.

These thoughts and more went through Dusan's tired, pain-filled mind as he crawled unsteadily toward the discarded body of the old Sensei. Dusan knew that his soul was too corrupted to survive the waters of the Fountain of Essence. But if he submitted to the ritual, and willingly agreed to become the _Vessel_, the healing waters would have to accept the soul exchange and ensure purification.

He wondered how it would it feel to have his corrupted soul cleansed of all its sins.

As he crawled, he uttered the ancient words of the ritual, ignoring the explosions, screams, and earth temblors around him. As he reached the old Sensei's body, he dragged it with him to where the cleansing waters were still running freely. Taking the knife from the old one's hand, he finished the ritual chant, and kneeling directly above the body of the Soul Walker, he plunged the knife into his own heart.

The last thing he felt was that of his blackened soul passing through the old Sensei's as the other eagerly moved into his newly purified _Vessel_. He could hear the old man's cackle at this unexpected next chance. The Sensei didn't bother thanking his grandson for the sacrifice.

As the souls settled into their new homes, high-pitched, tortured screams were suddenly rent from their throats as the Sensei's and Dusan's bodies disintegrated in the goddess's purifying waters.

Purification did indeed come at a high price…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

End of Part 8


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary**: A Good Soldier—Epilogue

**Special Thanks:** To my two fantastic and patient beta-readers, PJ and Beth. Your critical reading and helpful comments have helped make this a much better story. And also, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken a moment to give me feedback. Your kind words and thoughtful praise were the engines that drove me forward.

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to DC, Time Warner, and CN; this is an original story that doesn't intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome.

**Copyright**: June 2012

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A Good Soldier

By Syl Francis

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[From: Part 8]**

_Batman held Dick in his arms, his cape covering the boy protectively. He gently ran a lone finger down the boy's cheek, marveling at how innocent he looked. Had he told Dick he loved him recently? How proud he was of him? He thought of the adoption papers lying in his desk drawer. Why hadn't he finalized them before this?_

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

**[Begin: Part 9—Epilogue]**

Batman, cowl off, sat at his master computer in the Batcave. The giant virtual monitor was split into several screens. In a smaller window, he had video surveillance footage of Ra's Al Ghul and Ubu boarding a private jet in Teipei, which soon disappeared from radar. Another window showed Talia going through French customs in Marseilles. She was seen getting into the back of a black Bentley with phony license plates outside the airport. Interpol lost her trail within the first 30 minutes.

There were no signs of either Dusan or the old Sensei, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing. When last seen, the old Sensei had been dead by his own hand, and Dusan had suffered a serious wound to the side, possibly fatal. With the Al Ghul family's tendency not to stay dead for long, however, Batman opted for a healthy dose of paranoia and assumed they were still out there, and still after Dick.

In the virtual monitor's largest window, he had a live feed of Dick going through a complicated acrobatics/gymnastics/martial arts routine.

"A good soldier," he murmured, acknowledging Dick's willingness to improve on his strengths and eliminate his weaknesses. Briefly, his thoughts strayed once more to the adoption papers in his desk. _Maybe it's time_, he thought.

His features softened momentarily as he continued to watch, completely awed by the boy's level of skill. Dick managed to make the most complicated, difficult moves look easy—and with the added touch of beauty and grace.

The boy could practically defy gravity.

And then Dick slipped and fell on his rump, eliciting an annoyed grunt and a sharp curse. Batman lifted an eyebrow, wondering where the boy had picked up such raw language.

"Roy," he growled. He'd have a talk with their resident Rebel Without a Cause about his language and being a poor influence on the younger, more impressionable heroes. "Wally, too." The speedster had a heart of gold, but sometimes his mouth moved faster than his brain could filter it.

But he was getting off track, avoiding the inevitable, refusing to acknowledge the final virtual window directly before him. It had no live feeds, no video footage. It was simply a scientific analysis with numerical sequences and a small message flashing at the bottom—a message he had tried ignoring for the past few minutes, but no longer could.

Against his will, he let his eyes fall down to the analytical language: coding, percentages, amino acids, yes/no Bolean searches. At last, his eyes came to the final words: Match—99%-itle. In other words, there was a 99 percent chance that Dick was Talia Al Ghul's son and Ra's Al Ghul's grandson.

He had also run a secondary check through the mitochondrial DNA, a test that was designed to follow the maternal DNA line. That test had come back with similar results.

To get a 100 percent match, he'd have to run the analysis against the biological father's DNA.

"But who's the father?" he murmured, although deep down he already knew. Dick was thirteen years old. He would have been conceived almost fourteen years ago, around the time that Bruce was in Nanda Parbat. "The dates match." All he had to do was run the final test…

"As you Americans would say," a soft voice said behind him, "the _ayes_ have it." Bruce spun around, not surprised to see Talia standing there. How she and her father always managed to circumvent the Manor and Batcave's highly sophisticated, one-of-a-kind security systems never ceased to irritate him.

"I guess I need a new security upgrade—again." He stood, bringing down his cowl while scowling at her. "What do you want, Talia? If you're here for Dick, you know that there is no power on Earth that will ever persuade me to hand him over to you or your father."

Talia's eyes dropped briefly, her hurt at his greeting evident in her stance. She knew now that her decision all those years ago had been the correct one. She did not belong with him...or, rather, he did not belong with her. Her upbringing had been too violent, filled with too much death—much of which she herself had caused. She doubted if her soul would have survived the waters of the Fountain of Essence—something, which both Bruce and Richard had.

That had been the true test of where and with whom Richard belonged. Talia took a moment to gather herself and then took a deep breath.

"As I said…you Americans have a saying: The _ayes_ have it." She smiled, teasing. "Or…in this case, the _eyes_—" She pointed at her own and then at Batman's. "—have it." At the Dark Knight's blank expression, she shook her head in fond exasperation. "You have eyes, Beloved, and yet you do not see. To know who Richard's father is simply look into his eyes…and into a mirror."

She walked up to him and held out a small, oblong box—a jewelry case. She watched him as she slowly opened it, revealing a single strand of pearls on a bed of deep blue velvet. He recognized it instantly: It was an exact replica of his mother's pearl necklace, which he'd given Talia the day he'd proposed. He'd had it commissioned by the same jewelers that had made his mother's.

"I believe this now belongs to Richard—it was his mother's, left with him once a long time ago as a remembrance. When the time is right, give it to him."

"Why…?" he whispered, reaching for it. His fingers briefly wrapped around hers as he took the jewelry case from her. "Why didn't you tell me?" He held her gaze for a long moment, seeing in her beautiful, almond eyes the same regret and pain over their lost love that he knew she saw in his.

Abruptly, he turned his back to her and looked intently at the monitor. The camera zoomed in on a close-up of Dick, hair matted with sweat, practically inhaling a bottle of water. The boy's youthful features were flushed from exertion, softly glowing with a sheen of perspiration in the cave's lighting—a picture of health.

It was hard to believe that he had died so violently, not once, but three times in the past week. Or that Bruce had held Dick's lifeless body and watched helplessly as he'd bled out in his arms. It was as if he'd relived his parents' murder and the Graysons' fall a thousand times over. The scenes had become superimposed, one murder/death bleeding into the next. Bruce shuddered at the images. It had all been much too close. He was pulled back to the present by Talia's quiet voice.

"I couldn't let anyone know. It would have been too dangerous." She spoke softly, knowing that no explanation would ever be good enough. "Father would have killed us both and taken Richard, raised him in his world. I couldn't allow that to happen to my child..._our_ child."

"But the Graysons? Why didn't you warn me?" He closed his eyes, seeing their tragic fall again. He could have prevented their deaths…if he'd only known. Placing both hands on the console, he leaned on it, once more overcome by the remembered guilt of four years ago…and the heartbroken, dark-haired little boy whose sad eyes melted his frozen heart.

"I didn't know, Beloved…I found out too late." Talia shook her head. "I purposely did not learn the names of the couple that adopted him. What I didn't know, I couldn't reveal. I thought that would protect him…" She clenched her fist in self-loathing. "I was a _fool_."

Neither spoke for a long moment, both lost in memories that were best forgotten, but nonetheless treasured despite all the pain they evoked.

Smiling wistfully, Talia watched Dick on the rings, his strong body in a perfect _T_. "He is magnificent, isn't he?"

She walked up to the monitor and tentatively reached up and touched Dick's image. She ran her finger along his outline, hesitating on his face. Dropping her hand, she turned back to Batman.

"I wanted my child to have a normal life. A mother and father's love…everything I couldn't give him."

"He had that," Batman said softly. "John and Mary Grayson's lifestyle may not have been what we call _normal_, but they loved Dick. And their love has carried him through the bad times and good times. He _is_ their son."

Talia shook her head. "No, Beloved. He _was_ their son. Now he is yours. Not mine…and _not_ my father's. He will always carry the Graysons' love inside him, but he is now and always will be _your_ son." She kissed him affectionately on the cheek and started walking away, fading into the shadows. "Do not be afraid to show him your love, Bruce. He loves you already. All he needs is to hear you say the words…"

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

Bruce stood outside on the large patio immediately adjacent to his study. It was a warm, September day, with blue skies and cotton-candy clouds, the well-manicured grounds and gardens a showcase for summer's last hurrah. He rarely walked the Manor grounds anymore. He used to explore the numerous nooks and crannies as a child, which is how he literally fell into the cave that lay directly underneath.

When Dick first arrived, the boy used to sneak out and find places in which to be alone. It would take Bruce and Alfred hours sometimes before they found the unnaturally quiet boy, curled up someplace where he'd cried himself to sleep. As time passed and they grew closer, not only as Bruce and Dick, but also as Batman and Robin, Dick's need to be alone grew less and less. In fact, the boy's natural exuberance thrived in the company of others, and he sought out Bruce and Alfred on an almost constant basis.

With the new friendships he'd recently formed in the Young Justice team, Dick seemed to need Bruce and Alfred's company less these days. Bruce knew that this was good. The boy was growing up, making friends, becoming more independent. But still…he missed the small boy who always seemed to be underfoot and asking endless questions only yesterday.

"Bruce?" Dick's voice sounded uncertain, as if afraid to disturb him.

He turned, his mouth slightly upturned in a half-smile. "Yes?"

"Bruce…Ra's Al Ghul explained why they took me. He told me about the ritual—the soul exchange. He said they needed a blood relation for it to work, and—" He stopped, unable to go on. It had taken him all morning to work up the courage to ask, and now he'd lost his nerve.

"And you want to know if it's true? If you're related to Ra's Al Ghul? If Talia is your biological mother?"

To Bruce's surprise, Dick shook his head.

"No, I don't care about that. I know who my mom and dad were. They loved me, and I'll never forget them. Blood relation doesn't mean anything, Bruce. You taught me that. Just because I'm related to them by blood doesn't mean that I'm gonna grow up to be evil…or, I don't know…" he shrugged. "Become Master of the Universe or something."

Bruce's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Oh? You don't have this inner drive to rule the world?"

Dick shook his head, smiling. "I'm not even ready to lead the team, yet. So, no thanks!" His smile slowly disappeared, replaced with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "Like I said…blood doesn't really matter, Bruce, but…" Dick paused, looking directly into his mentor's eyes, marveling again at how alike they were to his own. He had to know. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth.

"I _am_ your father, Dick." Bruce knelt down until he was eye level with Dick. "Is that what you wanted to ask?" At Dick's nod, Bruce placed a warm hand on his son's shoulder. _His son_. He marveled at the fact as if it were finally sinking in. His expression softening, he gently ran a thumb along the boy's cheek. "My son." Without further word, he took Dick in his arms and held him for a long moment.

Dick reciprocated by throwing his arms around his father's neck. He couldn't stop the hot tears that were somehow just there, soaking into Bruce's formerly crisp Oxford shirt. There were so many questions he wanted to ask…things he needed to know. He smiled when Bruce answered the foremost question on his mind.

"I didn't know, Dick…I'm the World's Greatest Detective, and I never even suspected. Now that I look at you, it seems so obvious." He broke the embrace, but kept his hands on Dick's shoulders, holding him at arms length. "But how do _you_ feel about it, Dick?"

Dick shrugged, taking an ineffectual swipe at his tears with his shirtsleeve. He accepted the white handkerchief Bruce offered him. _Must be allergies_, he grumbled silently.

"I'm not sure what I'm s'posed to think," he admitted, when he was finally able to answer. "When they first told me, I didn't believe them...didn't _want_ to believe them. But the more I thought about it, the less it hurt. I loved my mom and dad, Bruce. And I know they loved me. I don't understand why they didn't tell me I was adopted, but…" He stopped, unsure of what to say next.

"Would it help you to know that _I've_ wanted to adopt you for sometime, Dick? I've got all the paperwork in my desk." He stood, and his hand still on Dick's shoulder, steered the boy into his study. He opened his desk drawer and took out a packet of papers, which he handed to Dick. "I've had these for several months now…since your birthday in March. I was just building up the nerve to ask you. I guess I was afraid you'd say—"

"Yes! I would've said _'yes,'_ Bruce! In a heartbeat!"

This time Bruce gave his son a full-blown smile. Not his phony-baloney, billionaire playboy smile, or the cutting smirk Batman used on villains (and some heroes he thought were idiots), or even his _not-quite-a-smile_ half-smile that Bruce only used with his immediate family and close friends. No, this was a bona fide smile the likes of which hadn't been seen in private or public from Bruce since he was eight. It even rivaled one of Dick's own megawatt smiles.

For the first time in a long time, Bruce felt genuinely happy. He looked into his son's eyes and saw the same happiness reflected back. Leaning down, he touched his forehead to Dick's—a gesture of affection the boy recognized from many nights of being held after a nightmare. Or in his early days as Robin, when he'd fallen asleep in the Batmobile after an especially long patrol, and Bruce carried him up to bed and tucked him in.

"I love you, son…I have for a long time—almost from the very beginning. I wanted you to know…just for the record."

At Bruce's words, Dick's smile lit up his face, and he threw his arms around his father's waist. "I love you, too, Bruce."

Bruce finally realized that while Robin was the good soldier Batman needed in his relentless war, Dick was the son that Bruce Wayne had always wanted but thought he would never have. He only hoped that he would measure up to being the father that Dick needed and wanted. More importantly, he wanted to be the father that Dick deserved.

"Bruce…shouldn't we tell Alfred?"

"Tell me what, sirs?"

Bruce and Dick gave each other matching knowing smiles, and as one turned to their surrogate father and grandfather.

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

A short distance away, on a wind-swept, wooded hillock overlooking Wayne Manor, almond-shaped eyes peered through a pair of binoculars at the happy, laughing scene being played out in Bruce's study. Unmindful of her hair whipping uncontrollably behind her, Talia watched the warm, family scene before her, a longing smile flitting across her beautiful, exotic features. She zoomed in on the boy's joyful expression as he hugged the family valet. The man's usually stoic manner was struggling with the effort of holding back tears.

At last with Bruce's arms firmly around his family, all three men walked out of the room. As the study door closed behind them, Talia finally lowered the binoculars. It took all her inner strength to turn away from the siren's song that called to her from within the Manor.

_Richard is with his father, as he should have been from the beginning._

Refusing to acknowledge the tears that fell of their own volition, she climbed into the backseat of the waiting Bentley.

_I hear that Milan is lovely this time of year…or, perhaps Buenos Aires…?_

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat as the car pulled away, leaving her heart behind…

~ / ~ / ~ / ~

The End


End file.
